


The Troubles

by nazu_gull



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Anger, Drinking, Illustrated, M/M, Named Courier, One-sided Courier/Boone, Polyamory, Swearing, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 48,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazu_gull/pseuds/nazu_gull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This goes way beyond losing your wife. I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before. I’ve never had guilt, grinding me down, into <i>dust.</i>"</p>
<p>A story about dealing with loss, trauma, and understanding your own thoughts. All alongside a certain courier who sometimes doesn't seem like he appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When the young man put on the beret, Boone didn't even remember lining up the crosshairs with Jeannie May’s head and taking the shot.

It felt good when he saw her burst head and motionless body from way up there. Didn’t change anything, but it still felt damn good. 

That was for Carla. And the baby he’d been looking forward to meet.

 

* * *

 

 

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=161l47b)

 

He cursed as he crumpled up the 'purchase agreement' that the guy had later showed him. It disgusted him to even call it that. The paper ball dropped to the floor and he sat heavily on the bar stool, head in hands. The stranger leaned against the steel wall, not saying another word. He obviously didn’t know what else to say, and standing there just made him look stupid. Boone wished he’d just leave, he wanted to be alone.

But then the guy asked if he wanted to get out of town with him. He said he was heading up to the city, and that he could use someone who knew the land. And their way around a gun.

 

Boone kept quiet. He glanced up at the man, who was looking at his rifle on the floor.

"I thought snipers worked in teams," he said with a slight slur. He was right. Didn’t want a ruptured sternum again, he was much more effective with a spotter and someone to watch their backs while he looked through the scope.

Nothing left in Novac. Hated Manny, hated the whole town for not caring about Carla and her being missing. Didn’t really care what happened to it anymore, just wanted to keep the room. Had all of her things there.

No way to see the end coming if he stayed. It might not even get to him. And no way to trust this stranger yet, but that was what the gun was for.

 

So, he agreed. The only choice that might not make him dread going to sleep every day. Maybe they’d split up after they got to the city. Alright, the guy said. Told him to finish his shift and get some sleep, and that he’d come by his door tonight. Boone just grunted in reply and went back to sentry duty.

The man left and closed the door behind him, but not before picking up the crumpled paper from the floor. He mumbled something about putting the evidence back to where it was. Boone didn’t care, none of that mattered anymore.

 

He later saw the guy down in front of the dinosaur again, moving Jeannie May’s corpse to a new position. He kept looking up the sky and down onto the body, probably trying to estimate a bullet trajectory that didn’t point to the sharpshooters up in the dinosaur. Boone huffed, he’d already told him it wasn’t going to be a problem. Not sure why he would still go through the trouble.

The young man left the scene after. He only realised some time later why he hadn't bothered washing the blood and brain matter off the road when it had started pouring down with rain.

 

* * *

 

Asher, or Ash, the guy had introduced himself. Turned out they were the same age. Boone was older by a few months. For some reason he'd been very amused at that, and said that Boone didn't look his age.

He appeared to be a shy, well-mannered young man at first glance. Boone himself wasn’t one who beat around the bush, and he didn’t care for such displays of propriety, believing it was just a waste of time to both sides. He was surprised the Mojave hadn't yet taken someone as naive as this, this guy definitely wasn’t made to be traipsing the wasteland. The way he spoke also made him seem as if he was tired all the time, or just really relaxed. With lazy eyes and a lazy smile. Boone had often wondered if he was tripped out on chems, but never actually saw him popped any.

 

In their few days of traveling together Ash made attempts at conversations with him, apologizing curtly whenever Boone wasn't ready to divulge something personal.

But after a few failed tries he could see that even he was losing patience. The guy didn't bother anymore to put on a smile whenever they’d talked, and they started spending most parts of their journeys in silence. Soon enough the only person who began any conversation was Boone himself.

Much better this way, saved the both of them a heck of a lot of time and effort.

He was a drastically different person whenever they came across a scuffle, though. He swore and cursed and yelled. A lot. Boone honestly hadn't expected that from someone who’d appeared so subdued. Or maybe he'd just been putting up a front all this time.

 

But he wasn't a soldier, it definitely showed. Countless times, Boone snarled at his missed shots. He had to do most of the work whenever they came across raiders or wild animals. Or feral ghouls at the REPCONN site.

"What's your problem!?" Boone yelled over the battle. He usually only received frustrated noises and apologies in reply but now, Ash had started to snap right back at him. Due to that their campaigns now only ever consisted of swearing, yelling, scolding, and then deafening silence when they resumed their journey after.

They never got too close to their targets, and at that distance three out of five shots of the courier’s land. But whether or not they landed on his intended target was another story. His alertness led him to be a decent enough spotter, at least. And he didn’t seem to show any qualms about killing if he had to, which although Boone considered rather surprising for a civilian, made things a whole lot simpler.

He’d asked for a session or two on spread control and precision firing. Boone reluctantly agreed, for both their sake. The courier had chuckled, said that he was unexpectedly patient as an instructor. The guy was fortunately a fast-learner, and soon enough he could land most of his hits on target. Headshots were still out of the question.

 

Other than that he also seemed to be rather fickle with his choice of weapons.

"Choose one and stick to it," Boone told him over a campfire one morning. "I'm sick of hauling around an arsenal. Which one?"

“I’ve heard about those anti-materiel rifles. Can I try one of those?”

Boone sighed, “Something you can actually carry.”

Ash folded his arms, eyes glancing over their bags, "I guess I'll stick to the 10mm for now. It's versatile," he said with a thoughtful look.

  
"Fine. Next dealer we see, we're getting rid of the rest.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First few chapters are just for establishing the courier's character because I feel this is important. This story is about Boone, so it becomes all Boone-centric later. Sorry, I'm not very good at writing...In hindsight now I would actually change the first five chapters to something else entirely.  
> Anyhow, I sure hope readers who stick by don't get disappointed!


	2. Chapter 2

 Legion Raid Camp

 

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=fdg7xu)

 

The Legion camp was littered with bodies and the soil soaked crimson. Boone sat on a log near the fire and looked at the dead soldiers around him while Ash was still skulking around looking for loot. As he waited for him he looked into the glassy eyes of one of the corpses strewn nearby.

Didn’t realize the Legion was already so near Novac. Last time he saw these bastards was at Cottonwood Cove. Carla had been there. Around a month ago, now.

  
  
He heard the courier speaking to someone and his eyes raced to the tent it was coming from. Last pickings, and that guy was talking to them? His heart pounded and he picked up his rifle, ready for anything. 

When he strode into the tent he found his companion with two young men dressed in blue NCRCF uniforms, kneeling in front of him. Ash glanced up at him when he entered and then went back to glaring daggers at them, which looked odd because the boys were helpless with their cloth gag and their hands tied behind their backs to stakes punched through the earth.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, don't worry about it,” he replied in a strange tone.

Boone eyed him suspiciously. When he knelt down to try to cut the ropes Ash stopped him. Told him to wait. He wasn't sure he'd heard him right. He looked up at him incredulously while the boys were making noises of angry protests.  
  
"They're Legion prisoners. About to be slaves. What's there to think about?" he said. But Ash didn't meet his eyes, his were intently fixed on the ground. Like he was calculating something. 

Ridiculous. This guy's next words had to be picked very carefully.

  
  
Asher finally walked over to the prisoners, machete in hand. He crouched down next to them.

“Hey. You two remember this, very, very clearly,” he said to them in a low voice. 

The end of his machete was placed on one of the boy's cheek. The kid looked indignant, still had fight left in his eyes, but his friend next to him looked scared out of his mind.

 

"I could've shot you in the head, I could've given you a nice, deep incision right here,” he lightly slid the knife along their stomachs, "and left you to bleed to death by the time the sun rose." Something in his voice said that he wouldn’t mind at all, doing both things. 

Boone just watched him in silence. He'd never seen him like this before. This wasn't the same man he'd been traveling with. He wasn’t speaking in his usual lazy manner, every word he spat out now was razor sharp with murderous intent. He looked at his face from where he was standing and only saw some sort of determination. With a hint of the unknown factor.

  
Ash looked at them dead in the eyes and the kids just stayed still. 

"Yeah, I could gut you but I'm not going to do that," he said, with a dark smirk. He started sawing at the thick ropes with the machete and the kids' heads fell.

"You guys think you can do anything, scaring people just to get your way. Well don't fuck around with me, I got enough of your shit, you got that?"

  
The ropes were almost sawn through. Don't fucking move so much or I'll cut your wrists, he mumbled. The boys scrambled to their feet after the rope was off and took off their gags.

"Make sure you remember this for the rest of your sorry shitty lives," he said in a monotone while he observed the kids rush out of the tent, "you'd think you’d have learned something from prison.

  
“Fuck you!” one of them swore at him before they fled the camp. It was such a petty thing but the courier went berserk at that and drew his pistol. He was definitely about to take the shot but Boone held him down and easily disarmed him. Threw the gun away and yelled at him to stand down.

But he didn't care. He rushed ahead and shouted threats at them, told them that he might have to gun them down the next time they meet, his eyes wild with anger.

 

After they were out of their sight he stalked back to the fire, breathing heavily. He didn't meet his eyes as he flopped down onto the ground, spread eagle.

“ _Fuck,"_ he spat furiously at the stars.

 

* * *

 

They sat around the fire and ate canned food before they were to continue their journey. After a few long, heavy minutes, when Boone thought he might have calmed down already, he asked him what that was all about. It had been somewhat fascinating watching him go from one end to the other, but he didn’t want to be travelling with a loose cannon if he could help it.

The courier looked up at him and then back at the fire again.

“Some group of idiots from the Correctional Facility coup. Freaking hate them,” Ash answered with remnants of rage while he crushed his empty box of Dandy Boy Apples and rummaged through his bag for his vodka, “the guards must’ve sucked. What the hell happened?”

“ _I_ don’t know,” Boone frowned at him.

“Right, sorry,” he took a long swig out of the bottle.

 

They’d only been travelling together for a few days but Boone noticed that he always had some form of alcohol with him. He would have said it was for disinfecting if he hadn’t damn well drank every single day so far. He also seemed to eat an alarming amount of sweets, always the processed sugary stuff and caramels, rarely any fruits. But Boone didn’t care how he drank and ate because they didn't seem to compromise his aim. Yet. 

 

He put his empty can of beans down. "Saw your eyes. Seen that look before. You were about to kill them, or was seriously thinking about it,” he said. 

Ash sluggishly turned his head to him. “I didn’t,” he said slowly, like he was talking to a child who wasn’t paying attention. “They were all knotted up for me. But I didn’t.”

Boone just stayed looking right into his eyes, challenging him to elaborate.

Ash sighed, looked away, and took another drink from the bottle. He made a face as he swallowed. “You don’t know what they did. At Goodsprings,” he said bitterly. "Some good people died because of that gang."

“Doesn’t mean you should’ve done it. They were kids. Strung along by slavers.”

“I don’t get how this is so different from what you’re trying to do,” the courier retorted in a flash of anger, “if they were the ones who took your wife, you’d have shot ’em too.”

 

Boone was speechless, he couldn’t believe he’d just heard that. He blinked once, slowly, eyes boring into him across the dying fire.

“...and what gives you the fucking right to say that?" he said in a low, dangerous, voice. 

Ash didn’t reply, he just stared into the embers in silence, fury still in his eyes. Then he got up from the log and strode off, swearing harshly as he kicked away a rusty can on the ground. Boone was left alone at the campfire, reconsidering his decision to travel with that man.

 

* * *

 

They continued their journey later that night with the intention of using the solitude and shroud offered by the black sky. They’d walked in complete silence the first hour, until the courier finally broke it with a quiet apology.

“I’m sorry.”

Boone didn’t bother looking at him and just continued walking.

“No one should ever deserve Caesar’s slavers. What the Legion does... it’s something else,” he said.

“I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t have.”

Boone walked on in silence. He sounded sincere enough. But having a temper shouldn't ever excuse someone saying something they'd regret.


	3. Chapter 3

Boone wasn't exactly a people person. Which made the courier really something else.

He seemed to absolutely hate spending more than an allocated time walking about town, and if he had to his mood clearly deteriorated. That day he'd even preferred to risk a small amount of his safety to sleep in a makeshift hay bed in a rusty shack instead of using a bunk bed at McCarran. Must be nice to be so picky, Boone thought.

They'd been traveling together for more than two weeks now. There were inevitable clashes at the start, with their significantly different levels of discipline and lifestyle. 

Boone was a creature of habit, had his own strict routine, and while the other had something mildly resembling one Ash mostly did his own activities at erratic frequency. Like when he'd suddenly start trying to maintain a clean-shaven look because he liked how well Boone had kept his clean, only to give up just as abruptly. Or the time he had decided to take a detour to sight-see, only to get caught up in some small territory conflict and ended up delaying their schedule several days.

At the very least, they still traveled only at night. He preferred the solitude and the obscurity.

Boone had nothing to complain about that. Wherever he decided to go, he merely followed. Never been the type to lead, and it wasn't as if he had a particular direction in his life right now. 

He’d even been begrudgingly getting involved in tussles that didn’t involve the Legion but too much of that, and he would consider splitting.

 

* * *

 

The Strip 

 

Thanks to Boone they’d managed to gain access to the monorail at McCarran to get into the New Vegas Strip. The courier had chuckled in some sort of sinister glee as the troopers let the both of them through to the platform. He’d been really excited about seeing the train in the works, for some reason.

When they got to the the platform he froze, staring at the suspended steel tracks that extended out across the land. Boone had been here before, so he just leaned against the wall with some of the other soldiers, hands in pockets, waiting for the train to arrive.

Ash went to the edge, placed his hands over the railing and peered over cautiously. The NCR soldiers looked curiously at him, wondering what a civilian was doing around here. Then they realized he came in with the other guy that wore the red beret. He heard one of them mumbled something about wishing they had a 1st Recon looking out for them too.

 

Ash walked over to him with a bright smile on his face, “This is amazing. I can’t believe they managed to fix it, I can’t wait to see the car!”

"Hm," this guy obviously never went out much.

“It’s just a monorail,” he said. But Ash wasn’t listening because the the train had arrived and it stopped beside the platform. When he made to walk toward the door Boone held him back by the shoulder.

“Wait for them to get out first,” he said, feeling like a babysitter. Though it was still amusing to watch how excited he looked. It made him feel proud to have been part of the NCR.

Only half a dozen tired-looking soldiers alighted and once they did the other twenty or so waiting on the platform hurriedly hopped in.

 

They sat opposite each other at the end of the train. The whole car of soldiers was chattering as the door closed, and when it started to move he noticed Ash gripping the edge of his seat, trying to stabilize himself from the momentum.

“First time to the Strip?” one of the ladies sitting next to Ash asked him while she chewed gum.

“Yeah,” he answered with a goofy grin as he peered out the window, seeing the wasteland whizzing past.

“Hm. How’d someone like you get in here?” she cocked her head and looked like she was sizing him up. Her friend next to her gave her a small cuff on her arm.

“I came here with him,” he said as he lazily pointed across the aisle towards Boone and went back to looking out the window. She turned to Boone, who’d just shrugged and raised his eyebrows at her from behind his sunglasses.

 

It was like Ash’s head was stuck at that angle throughout the train ride because he never moved. He kept staring out the window. When they were coming up to the city of New Vegas his eyes widened at the sight.

It must have looked amazing to him. Boone was impressed during his first trip there too. It looked like a different world, like the war had never happened. Probably wasn’t a wonder that he’d met Carla at a place like that. Fitted her so well.

 

When they got out into the city the courier’s eyes went even wider when he saw the Lucky 38 skyscraper. He plopped down the stairs and walked out to the kerb, staring up at it from the crowd of pedestrians.

“Holy mother of crap,” he shivered as he took a step back at the sheer height of it.

Boone stood next to him and glanced up too. It was dizzying but he’d seen it before, wasn’t very much to look at. He gave him a few more moments of admiration before telling him to get a move on.

As they walked towards Vault 21 Ash kept flitting back again at the Lucky 38, the Tops, Gomorrah’s flaming signboard beyond the gates, and then back to the Lucky 38.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

“If you’re hooked now, you should see this place at night,” Boone said.


	4. Chapter 4

Vault 21

 

After they got food outside they returned to the underground hotel room and spent the rest of their night there. The lights and music of the Strip were remarkable but it was apparently too crowded for the courier and he soon got moody from being out in town too long.

Ash had turned on the radio, and was sprawled over his bed, drinking scotch straight from the bottle and reading his novel. Boone sat on the floor, against his own bed at the other side of the room, maintaining their weapons.

Boone looked at him over the dismantled guns every once in a while to keep an eye on him, a habit he'd developed with anyone he didn’t fully trust. The courier had done right by him so far, but he definitely couldn’t be too careful. Especially not after Jeannie May.

Ash wasn't reading anymore. The radio on his Pip-Boy was playing After You've Gone while he flicked the pages of the book. Seemed like the scotch had rendered his head at just the perfect level of haziness for a chat.

 

He closed the book. Stared at the cover and touched its fuzzy corner, as if he was trying to remember something.

"Hey," he said aloud, swaying slightly. Boone looked up.

"I’d like to know more about Carla."

He furrowed his brows at that, "Why?"

"Just wondering how she's like."

His use of 'is' didn't go unnoticed. But what was the point of such a conversation? Boone didn't say anything. Went back to cleaning the .10mm's barrel, leaving Asher just watching his hands work.

 

Was a while before the song ended. Then Mr. Vegas started reading the news, something about Nelson being retaken and then tensions in Freeside. He ended the portion with a sponsor message. Next song began, it was Hard Luck Blues.

 

“She was...cultured.” 

The courier listened with half-lidded eyes. He looked down at the gun, “classy girl. Always said I was too, uh, blockheaded."

He tried to hide his smile, remembering how much she used to tease him about it. He could never grasp the art of understanding his own emotions. She’d always been good at it. Maybe it was a lady's thing.

He talked about her hair. How the thick, shadow black curls bounced around when she moved. They were so curly they looked like noodles. She'd actually grown up hating it, but he loved it. Asher smiled.

“She liked looking at fine dresses. But wasn’t too excessive, she was still pretty careful on her caps,” he looked up at the courier. “Someone who respected hard work.”

 

They kept quiet for a few seconds. Then Ash asked, “Was she the one who cooked for the both of you?”

“Oh yeah, she loved good food too. Hell," he said with something new in his eyes, "she used to make this killer meat pie thing. _Melted_ in your mouth. Hands down, best thing I ever tasted in my life.”

“Oh, nice.”

“Don’t know how she did it. Some sort of family recipe all the way from Baltimore,” his smile got wider, “Used to take a few boxes from Golf to bring back for her.”

“On-site procurement,” Ash snickered and gave him a lethargic thumbs up. Boone gave a short laugh.

 

But then, it suddenly hit him. The smile on his face became an empty one.

He didn’t know exactly what the trigger had been, but his heart sank deep when he realized he'd never, _ever_ , get to taste it again. The idea didn't even sound true to him. And that was the worst part. Couldn't ever taste the brahmin stew she used to make too, the one he didn't even really like but would now give anything to eat it again.

She was dead. He'd never get to hear her voice again. Smell her hair again. No body, no ashes. The only parts of her he still had were her things. Her clothes, her bags, her makeup, her comb, her shampoo, her pillow. Every single one, back in Novac.

 

He suddenly desperately wanted to go back. Home. That was supposed to have been home for the both of them. 

 

Boone dully returned to polishing his scope for the second time. Asher sensed something when he suddenly fell silent, and didn't ask him to continue. From the other side he merely watched. Neither of them said anything for a long time. 

The blues song from the radio filled the hotel room. The courier sat up against the headboard, chin on his knees, the scotch swinging in his hand, with the old book now laid on the nightstand, carefully put on top of the worn-out clear bag he'd always stored it in.

"I’m so sorry. You must miss her.”

 

_Christ, he did._

He missed her so, so much. Never felt more alone in his entire life. He wondered how she was doing now. Whether she would have wanted him to rush out that night, to die, for her and the child's lives that had been forfeit no matter what he did.

Boone's hands shook slightly. He coughed, or cleared his throat, neither of them were sure.

He took off his cleaning glove as he got up, left his pile of guns, and then headed to the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

The Strip

 

"Arghhhh -- _fuck!_ " Ash winced and clutched Boone's brown shemagh scrunched up against his side. He'd held it there to hide the fresh bullet wound he'd just gotten from Benny's goons at the Top's suite from any wandering eyes.

He wanted to curse himself a thousand times over for thinking that Shithead Benny had a legit reason behind all this. And hell, he hoped to infinity that the bullet missed his stomach because the pain felt deadly close. It killed an organ, he was sure. But all that had to wait for now because they desperately wanted to take a shot at the Vulpes character who had very conveniently shown up in Vegas city.

 

"I don't wanna lose him," Boone growled, standing a few feet ahead of him, eyes glued to the suited Legion man. He made to draw his rifle but the courier snatched his arm and told him to wait.

"We're. In. The. Strip," he gritted furiously through his teeth when Boone showed no signs of relenting. He was shaking from the pain,"Freeside. He's not going anywhere. I'm coming with."

"Shit," Boone spat, eyeing the man, "fine, come on."

He put Ash's arm around his shoulder. The both of them started tailing the man towards the exit of the Strip, looking like regular drunkards after some midnight cards and drinks.

Ash was taking short, shallow breaths. The pain wasn't beyond what he had imagined for a bullet to the abdomen, but shit, it still hurt really, really badly.

It didn't help that Boone was right next to him. He was sure he could feel how he badly he'd been trembling and could even hear his occasional whimpers. He didn't want to be seen like this, but there were bigger things to deal with. Among his quiet curses he kept chanting 'I'm gonna kill that fucker' under his breath. Boone wasn't sure if he meant Benny or the man they were following.

 

They made their way to Freeside, where they were planning to covertly attack him. One extra corpse in that part of town wouldn't hurt anyone. They kept a safe distance and Ash tried to be as quiet as possible with his pained whines. When their target walked around a corner, he gave Boone the go-ahead.

"That's a long stretch of road, he's on. He won’t have cover. Go," he let go of him and leaned against a graffitied brick wall while Boone loaded his rifle.

He readied the gun, sling wrapped around one hand, told the courier to stay put and then rushed off. Ash prayed to whatever gods that Boone caught him. Fuck it all if he escaped, this was a golden moment they got. Been wanting to gank that guy since Nipton.

His back slid down the wall and he sat there waiting. He dared himself to lift off the fabric a little to check the bleeding, but immediately groaned when he saw that most of the shemagh was soaked through. Brown became dark red. Shocking. Did he really have that much blood in him?

He leaned his head back and gave a small, manic laugh. But then stopped abruptly and coughed because it hurt much more when he laughed. He was starting to feel light-headed, though whether it was just from seeing the amount of blood he’d lost or if his body was actually shutting down, he wasn't sure.

There was another bullet lodged at the end of his right shoulder too, he was pretty sure. But the pain from that was nothing compared to the one at his side. Can't have been a burst stomach. There'd be bile. Right?

 

Maybe he was gonna die tonight, after all.  _No, stop that, get out of my head. I can’t die. Not now._

Thoughts ran wild, ever conscious that each pump his heart made was flooding the fabric he held against the opening. 

_Left home without a word. Sorry Mom, Dad. But good fucking riddance._

He winced loudly and shut his eyes tightly.

 _Boone_. _Really wanted to help that poor man._

He was starting to feel more fatigued, and was surprised he hadn't passed out yet when he heard the noise of two gunshots cutting through the air. Boone came back soon after that, looking out of breath. Did he rush back here?

 

"Took care of it."

"Thank--" he couldn't finish because he started whispering a myriad of curses when Boone roughly helped him up. He'd said something to him, but he was too out to listen.  Something about the Followers.

As they walked along his lightheadedness became borderline greyouts. He felt Boone's shoulder muscles moving in rhythm under his own weakening ones.

He breathed in between the surges of pain, “Sorry. But thanks.”

Boone looked down and saw his leather armor drenched black and shiny. Oh hell, that was a lot of blood. He'd drag him there if he needed to.

"Y-you know..." Ash started whispering, "trying to get through everyday with only a piece of yourself--" he coughed twice, face scrunched up in pain.

"If you’re anything like me, years from now you'll miss her...just the same."

"Stop that," said Boone. Didn't like it when people started talking like they'd given up. But Ash just went on with his ramble, delirious from the pain and blood.

"Th-they left us behind -- _fuck_ , _man_ \-- _they left us behind and we can't follow ‘em_ ,” he raised his voice and it cracked with every single word.

The hand on his shoulder was clenched hard, shaking along with his breathing. Boone swallowed. He lost someone too? When? Why hadn't he said anything?

 

They should've been there by now. But he'd somehow ended up at the eastern exit.

"Mormon Fort. Where is it," Boone yelled out to a surprised-looking ghoul nearby.

"Wrong way. It's on the other side of town," he pointed at the direction they came from. Boone swore and readjust the arm around his shoulder because he was slipping off. Ash gave a small, crazed chuckle.

"You can just leave me, ya know."

"Shut up," he growled under his breath.

The courier continued his incoherent chatter. Something about them never coming back. _God, I miss you_ , he whispered, struggling to get words out over his heavy breathing, didn't seem to care that he wasn't making much sense. Just wanted to spit it all out.

"She, argh," his hand clutched tightly onto his shoulder, crumpling and stretching the shirt fabric as he groaned in pain, "t-they would have wanted us to live, and you know that...”

"’c-cause, that's what you would've wanted for her too. R-right?" 

Boone's chest started to ache. He thought about the letter he'd been carrying around with him, had read from time to time, when he wanted her nearby _._ Ash gave a hollow laugh. _  
_

It was getting harder to help him walk, he was getting weaker by the second. He saw wetness around his eyes and somehow knew it wasn't just sweat.

"Just...stop talking. Amost there," he lied. Wasn't even really sure where he was going. There were very few people around, wasn't sure which one wasn't a thug that'd end up stabbing the both of them by the end of the night.

"Boone. You’re not living. Let me - help you man, I -"

Ash coughed and groaned loudly before his legs finally gave way and he fell onto the ground, blood running down his boots and face drained of color.

 _"Oh, hell,"_ he heard the other man whisper before everything vanished before his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ffff bad writing is bad ;_;  
> Also, not sure if it showed through, but the sketches were done in the style of Yoji Shinkawa (the artist for Metal Gear)! I really think his style suits Fallout too.


	5. Chapter 5

 When Ash opened his eyes again he found himself lying on a hard bedroll with a dull, throbbing pain to his side.

 _Alive_. He found himself feeling grateful. That was twice, now. Was he lucky, or unlucky? 

His lower torso had been bandaged and glancing around he realized he was in the corner of a tent with three other persons sleeping on their own bedrolls. There was a lit lantern and a rusty chair next to him. He couldn’t guess where the hell he was. But then Boone walked in, holding his old novel. When he saw him awake he almost dropped it as he quickly strode over.

“Hey,” he said as he landed on the chair and looked over at him with a small smile of relief.

Ash gazed up at him, looking a little confused. Boone, smiling, at him. How long had he been out?

“Hello,” he said, and cleared his throat when he realized his voice was raspy, "You alright?"

Boone raised his eyebrows, then scoffed, "Been three days, and that's the first thing you say after getting your kidney taken out?"

Ash froze, wasn't sure he'd heard him right. "What?" he said in shock. Boone apologized, said he should've left it to the doctor to tell him.

"No, no, it's fine. Just... _yikes_ ," he whispered. Touched the area near his stitches unconsciously and stared at the dusty ground. His eyes looked faraway.

"...well...shit," he was crazy thankful it wasn't his lungs or his stomach that got hit, but it was still a shock to him. He supposed that he'd have to get used to walking around with one kidney. Did that mean he’d have to keep his eye on his blood pressure? Would drinking still be alright?

 

"'s good it wasn't anywhere else," Boone said.

“Huh?” Ash looked up at him from where he lay with a somewhat pained expression. "Oh. Yeah. You, uh..."

He took a deep breath and said in a lower voice, "You - saved my life. Thank you. I mean, I'm sorry you had to that in the first place but - thanks. Really."

"Not a problem," Boone mumbled and looked at the book in his hands. It wasn't a big deal to him, his squad used to do things like that all the time.

He toyed with the fuzzy worn out corner of the cover like Ash always did. When he'd looked back at him he caught him staring. Ash glanced away awkwardly and cleared his throat, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

"Uh, may I have some water, please?"

“No,” Boone replied, before he gave a small smile and got up from his seat to look for some. Ash sighed. Wondered when common courtesy became an oddity in this world.

 

Boone placed the book on the chair before he left. Ash must've reached out and grabbed it because when he re-entered the tent he was holding it at his side down on the bedroll. He thanked him for the water and drank the whole bottle in one go.

“What were you doing with this?” he asked in a somewhat apprehensive tone as he waved the novel in his hand.

“Didn’t snoop through your stuff. Was just bored out of my mind."

Ash looked a little relieved. Their things were off limits to the other, they'd established that a long time ago.

“So, did you like it?” he smiled.

Boone shook his head, “Only read the first quarter or so.” It didn’t have pictures in it. He’d only decided to try it out because he had nothing better to do.

Ash laughed softly, trying not to disturb the other patients in the tent. He looked at the book in his hand thoughtfully, as if sizing him up to decide if he'd earned the book, and then gave it back to him. Told him to take good care of it.

Boone raised a brow, "What, this the only copy in the world or something?" Ash had always been rather protective of if, carrying it around in his pack sealed inside a clear bag like some sort of preserved valuable. He’d figured he was just a serious nerd or something.

"Something like that,” he gave a weak smile.

 

It dawned on him that it might have something to do with the person he'd lost. He looked down at the old novel.

Ash changed the subject, "So...how have you been doing?"

"Fine," Boone simply answered. Ash narrowed his eyes at him. "Been a distraction, I guess," he reluctantly added.

Ash couldn’t hide his look of surprise. He hadn't expected that answer. 

"Oh," he said, unsure whether or not that had been a good thing for Boone. It wasn't like he could get his organs shot everyday just to take his mind off the heavy stuff.

"Okay, good. That's...good.”

 

* * *

 

Old Mormon Fort

 

Whenever Dr. Farkas came into their tent Asher got all starry-eyed over her.

He never spoke much when she was around, but every time after she left he would start talking about her, kept highlighting her selflessness and philanthropist attitude. He even talked about donating caps to the Followers, and when she said that they needed medical supplies instead Boone had to stop him from passing every last one of their Med-Xs to her.

He’d given some of his Fixers to her though, Lord knows he kept way too many to spare. Too bad she didn’t need Psycho, they had a full bag of those.

 

He'd figured that he just had a childish crush on her, but then he saw how he’d acted the same way towards that tall glasses-wearing doctor whom he'd gotten to know during his recovery at the Followers.

Ash seemed to be rather amused by his sarcasm and jokes, though Boone hardly understood any of them. This time they were talking about Ash’s harmonica.

"It's diatonic, so I can only play in C Major," he said.

Then the guy retorted, "Well, you can play in A Minor too." And Ash gave a bright laugh.

He must have been welcoming the break from months of travelling with a solemn companion like him. Ash wasn’t particularly witty either so it wasn't like they had anything to go on.

Boone hadn't even cared to understand the punchline, he'd wandered off mid-conversation.

 

* * *

 

Vault 21

 

Asher hadn’t mentioned anything about the crap he’d said when he was incapacitated under his companion’s arm, and Boone couldn’t put it away from the back of his mind. At that moment he’d realized that he didn’t actually know anything about the courier even though they’d been traveling together for weeks.

He waited till Dr. Farkas had let Ash go and they'd both gone back to their hotel room at the vault. He wasn't sure if the courier would want to talk about it, so he'd waited for privacy. Ash had been starting to get antsy as well, staying so long in a crowded (by his standards) camp.

He'd genuinely wanted to ask. Wanted to know how he'd dealt with it all. He would have normally cut to the chase, but for some reason he didn't even know where to start with this one.

 

The courier didn't feel like leaving town just yet, and since their schedule was clear for now he dallied around for a few days in the vault. Boone didn’t like being so lazy, and once in a while he gladly went out to gamble. Ash never saw the appeal. Told him that he was just throwing away perfectly good caps but Boone just ignored him.

The opportunity to talk came up one night when they were having a few drinks in a corner in the underground diner. Easier to initiate these things when there was alcohol involved, anyway. Ash always chose the least busiest hour to come out, they seemed to be the only ones in there. It was near midnight and the bartender had left after they'd paid for their food and drinks.

 

After a beer the courier asked him, "Hey. Were close calls common for you guys when you were serving?"

Boone looked at him. Asher was fiddling with the bottle label, half-reading it. He always played with his hands when he talked.

“Yeah. For the lucky ones,” Boone said as took out a snipped cigar and lit it.

Ash scoffed. "Fuck, right? The ones that deserve it don't even get one chance. And someone like me, twice," he said with dark eyes. He took two gulps from his beer.

 

Another period of silence after that, they kept the conversation slow.

Ash started picking the sticker off the bottle. “You ever wonder just what the hell kind of power decides these things,” he asked, not really expecting an answer. Boone smiled wryly, exhaling a puff of smoke.

“...every day."

Ash leaned back in his seat and drank some more. He grimaced, looked at the empty beer bottle and mumbled something about needing something stronger.

When they’d first started travelling together Boone was relatively concerned with how often the courier drank. He had never ended up in a stupor or with a hangover though, because he only ever drank until he acted a little happier and slurred his words more than usual. 

But Boone noticed that he'd been drinking almost every night, and he always made sure he had a bottle in his duffel bag. It made more sense now that he’d known about the loss he’d gone through. Hell, if he didn’t have the soldier’s discipline drilled into his head he’d be doing the same thing.

“Hey. How long have you been...drinking? Like this. You do it a lot.”

Ash feigned confusion, "Only had one beer, man, you saw me."

“I mean--”

“I know what you meant,” Ash said in an icy tone before he could finish. Then he gazed out the diner window at the steel walls of the vault, not saying anything more.

 

“Since Ray died in a fuckin' shack thirty four months ago."

Boone felt a wave of sudden coldness come upon him. Three years. A small part of him had been hoping that what they said was true, that time healed every wound. But he couldn’t see it here. Seemed like this guy always had a drink in his hand, trying so hard to be happy. 

Was this going to be him? Would he even last that long?

 

Ash gave a small laugh when he saw how his eyes fell, “‘s not always like this. You get ups and downs, good and bad nights.”

“The good days happen more than the bad,” he added.

 

Boone fiddled with the cigar. “Been together long?” he found himself asking.

“Yeah, kinda. Since I was seventeen,” he said. “He was a bartender at  a bar back in Dayglow.”

 

 _He?_  Boone couldn’t stop himself from raising his eyebrows. He was genuinely surprised. He’d figured Ray was short for Raven, or Rachel, or something.

“Oh. Okay...” was all he said. The courier eyed him, no doubt guessed what was going on in his head.

“D’you have a problem with that?” he sounded almost antagonistic.

“No, of course not,” he looked down at the plastic tabletop, feeling rather foolish, “just...thought I saw you checking out the lady upstairs some time ago.”

“Who, Sarah? Oh,” Ash said. Now he looked a little embarrassed, remembering how hard he’d tried to keep his eyes on anywhere but her behind when she was giving him the tour of the hotel. 

“Oh yeah, definitely. I mean, I’m fine with, uh...both.”

“Huh.”

Boone didn’t really know what else to say. He himself had been walking around without a shirt sometimes, was he not supposed to have done that? Could he ask? During his time in the army there were guys with guys, girls with girls, and…others. Hell, even Manny sometimes seemed friendly in an odd way with some of them, but no one had really deliberately talked about it.

 

The conversation was starting to become a little awkward, they’d both felt it.

Ash cleared his throat and tried to change the subject.

“Yeah, Sarah’s cute. I mean, uh - she’s great. Love what she’s done with this place. Best hotel I’ve been to, I don’t know how some people have a problem with it.” He hoped that didn’t count as a verbal diarrhea.

“Yeah," Boone replied.

Then, silence, again. For a whole minute this time. But then the courier started to shake with laughter and Boone hid a smile behind the hand holding the cigar. Weird conversation, but they were both taking it surprisingly well.

"Well, uh, how was he like?" he just wanted to talk about something else, but wasn’t very successful.

 

Ash took a deep breath and smiled at the bottle, "Oh, you know, out of this world. One of a kind. I'm sure you know what I mean." 

Too well. No doubt Carla wasn’t exactly the most perfect human being on earth, but to him she somehow always was. Manny had always thought he could have done better, said that he’d sold his soul to her. Apparently, seeing your lover in that kind of light was unusual.

"He was a real compassionate guy. He thought it made him weak, but I think he was just too good for this place," he frowned at his empty bottle. Then he gave a cheeky smile, "smart, too. He loved reading. Taught me how to think for myself.”

Boone remembered how he’d treated the novel he'd been carrying around.

"Was that one of his books? The one you're always reading?"

Ash looked up at him and smiled, as if he was impressed. Or really happy that he was being listened to.

"Yeah, it was. He loved it, he talked about it a lot. But I only picked it up after he passed away," he tore the bottle label off and played with the scrunched up sticker.

"Always wished I did it sooner," he scratched the back of his neck, "he would've loved that."

 

Boone exhaled smoke, "...what happened to him?"

"Some sort of...radiation poisoning. I think," the courier answered, “we were trying to find a doctor out of town but he didn't make the journey.”

He shook his head slowly, "it was slow, man." Stayed quiet for a few moments. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. And then his eyes.

"He was pretty scared," he chuckled emptily, ran a hand through his hair and he held it there, head bowed.

 

"Would've destroyed the world to save him.”

Boone leaned back into his seat, suddenly remembering the shot he'd taken. He'd never, ever, thought he'd be looking at his own wife through his scope.

The small radio on the other side of the room was playing a slow, lyric-less jazz song as they both stayed silent, both replaying the final moments of their lost ones in their minds.

 

After a few minutes the courier finally got up from his seat.

"Let me get you a drink, alright?" he grunted, and left the diner to go look for Sarah upstairs.

 

* * *

  

The next evening Ash brought in an Alsation cyberdog to their room.

Boone made a small noise of surprise when the dog trotted in. He asked what was going on, as he watched them in mild interest. The NCR had dogs in the army but he had never really gotten a chance to see one up close.

Ash said its name was Rex and that the head of The Kings had let him stay with them for a little while.

“Nice guy,” he’d randomly added.

He stooped down and stared right at the dog's face, grinning at him. Even pinched Rex's cheeks in glee, he surprisingly didn't seem to mind and continued panting happily.

 

Before long, Boone came over to pet him too. Rex growled at him when he came close.

"You should take your beret off, apparently he doesn’t like hats," Ash said. He'd reached out to try to grab the beret but immediately retracted his hand subtly the second he realized what he’d been about to do.

When Boone took his beret off the cyberdog looked up at him and started wagging its tail. He knelt and gently rubbed the back of one of Rex's ears, with a small smile slowly forming.

He softly mumbled a few hey, big guys at the dog as he continuously ruffled Rex's withers. Rex stared up at him in his doggy way with his tongue dangling out, sometimes flopping over to offer up his belly for scratching.

Ash sat against the foot of his bed and watched them both. He left soon after he made sure Rex had warmed up to Boone, saying that he needed to talk to the The Followers about something.

When Boone had gotten up to leave with him, he'd precisely told him to stay, saying he didn't want Rex left alone.

Before Boone could ask why he'd brought the dog there in the first place, he was already out the door.

 

By the time Ash had returned it hadn't been long before the crack of dawn.

He entered the room and saw that Boone was already asleep, with Rex lying on the bed at his feet. They both stirred, Boone blinked at the door in a daze, mumbled a small 'hey' at Ash, and went back to sleep.

Rex woke up and stayed awake, watching Ash walk in and out of the bathroom from his spot on Boone's bed.

When he turned off the lights and went to sleep, the dog did the same.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, the title of the story is from the name of a U2 song!


	6. Chapter 6

Jacobstown

 

On their way up route 157 to Mt. Charleston the courier kept gawking at the trees and snow-capped mountains all around them in pure wonder. He said that he'd never seen anything like it, only in pictures from pre-war books.

"Is this thick enough to be called a 'forest'?" he asked in bewilderment as he whipped out his makeshift sketchbook and tried to draw what he saw since he didn’t have a camera.

Boone shrugged, "They're just trees." Asher froze and looked up at him from where he sat on a large rock.

" _Just_ trees?"

Boone knew that look. He was about to give one of his lectures. Probably about humanity's innate responsibility in reviving the environment the old world had destroyed or something else idealistic like that. Either way, Boone just mumbled, “Forget I said anything,” and walked away before he could start.

He'd been half reluctant to travel west since it was in the exact opposite direction of any Legion hotspots, but had agreed to follow anyway because they were to help the cyberdog find a new brain from a doctor who lived around there. He was pretty sure the courier had been manipulative enough to wait for him to have grown fond of the dog's company before telling him the catch.

 

Night fell by the time they’d arrived at Jacobstown. The small town was bustling with nightkin and super mutants, something neither of them had really expected. Boone didn’t make eye contact with the ones they’d walked past and had to tell Ash to stop smiling at them even if he was just trying to be friendly. Back in the NCR he’d been told that some of them could unpredictably demonstrate aggressive behavior. 

When Dr. Henry had impatiently told them he couldn’t fix Rex without a new canine brain the courier’s eyes widened in dismay. Boone just folded his arms and exited the room with the dog. Supreme waste of time, trekking up that hill. The three of them exited the lab, they’d came in and out of it in around four minutes. Didn’t know what to do now so the courier decided to stay a night. Just relax tonight, he’d said, you don’t get to see snow everyday. Though it sounded more like he was trying hard to see the bright side of things.

 

The two of them set up in one of the rooms Marcus as agreed to let them use for the night, one of the ones downstairs in the lodge. Ash didn’t fancy sharing a room, much less a bed, but it was either this or the bungalows outside that didn’t have electricity on such a cold night.

They were both starving. Boone was shivering, didn’t take the cold very well compared to Asher, and just wanted something hot so Ash cooked up a simple pot of thin soup with a potato, a carrot, and broken up noodles with their seasoning packets. Turned out to be one of those meals that looked good and smelt good but didn’t taste very nice. At least it warmed them up. Rex had lapped up a whole bowl and looked very happy, but dogs ate anything, really.

After eating the three of them went out to the compound because the courier wanted to play around in the snow. They went to the section next to the lodge behind the bighorner pens, Boone wrapped up in his tactical jacket with a high collar and a thick scarf while Ash had just added a thin zipped hoodie and a beanie.

The both of them had never seen snow. Asher showed much more excitement than him, and flopped onto the ice along with Rex.

 

“This is so weird!” he laughed like a kid and vigorously felt up the snow he laid on like it was a pillow. Rex stood up and rolled into the ground again and again as Boone crouched near them and took a handful of snow in his gloved hand.

“Huh. Not as soft as I’d imagined,” he muttered.

“Right?” Ash stood up, “I wanna make a snowman, do you know how to make a snowman?”

“What’s a snow man?”

But before he could get his answer one of the nightkins nearby interrupted them, “Jimmy? Little Jimmy!” he called out and walked over.

Ash looked alarmed as the nightkin suddenly took him in his arms and gave him a long, tight squeeze. Boone stood up and watched them warily as he held onto the combat knife in one of his pockets and holding back Rex, who was growling at the nightkin because he wore a large sun hat.

“Jimmy - my how you’re grown up. So good of you to come visit your grandma,” the nightkin droned in her deep gravelly voice, Boone finally realized she was a woman. Could never tell with super mutants.

“Uh - who’s Jimmy?” the courier asked with big eyes, glancing back and forth between him and the nightkin. She then started to try to give him a kiss on the cheek, saying something about ‘giving grandma some sugar’.

Ash was speechless, he was starting to get confused. He wasn’t Jimmy...was he? He squirmed visibly and the nightkin just laughed, “Now now, Jimmy dearie, don’t be embarrassed because your girlfriend is here too.”

He sputtered in her arms, Boone frowned and felt a little sick. This 'grandma' was definitely hallucinating.

Asher tried to push away from her as politely as he could, “I-I’m sorry, Ma’am. I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“I…” she paused, looking a little puzzled before she finally realized what was going on, “Oh. Oh of course I have, dearie, how silly of me. I didn’t take my medicine yet, today.”

She let go of him and he scrambled a few feet away, but still had the decency to try not to look too freaked out.

 

“I’m sorry dearie, I didn’t mean to give you a scare.”

“No, it’s no problem,” he laughed nervously.

“I’ll go back to the Bighorners now, dearie, don’t stay outside too long! You’re going to catch a cold!”

“Okay, Ma’am. G-good night.”

“You have a good night too, dear boy,” and with that she gave him a pat on the head and stomped back to where she came, leaving them alone.

Boone finally let go of the dog and stood up straight. They both looked at each other in silence for a few seconds before he gave a small chuckle, “That was weird.”

“Yeah,” Ash smiled and looked distractedly over to where she was standing with the creatures, “wonder what’s her story.” He wished he could just ask, but he didn't know how.


	7. Chapter 7

“She was one of the cashiers. At the Tops. I was standing up on the mezzanine, near the big set of stairs. Wondering if I should slam a couple more stacks at roulettes.

Then she came along, walking up the stairs. Holding a few trays of poker chips in her hands. I didn’t pay much attention to her at first. But then she smiled at me, said hi. Asked if I was lost. Told her I was fine. She said ‘you sure?’ And then she...asked me if I’d actually been looking for Gommorah.”

 

“I choked up. Kept telling her no, I was just looking for chips. She just smiled. Had a look in her eyes that said she didn’t really believe me, though, since I was just hanging around for no reason.

Anyway, she led me to her counter at the cashiers and made my exchange. She asked if that was an NCR beret I was wearing. I said yeah. She leaned in over the counter to read the crest, but she didn’t really know what it meant. When I told her I was serving under a sniper unit she looked pretty impressed for some reason.

She smiled. And gave me an extra stack for free. For the ‘good job’ we’d been doing. She told me not to tell anyone. I didn’t really know what to say. Beautiful lady like that, being so nice, too. Wasn’t sure what to make of it. I - thanked her, and just - stood there. Must’ve looked like a real idiot.

Couldn’t get her out of my mind for the rest of the day. Kept wondering if I’d bump into her out on the streets."

 

"So I went back to look for her again a few days later. Lucky for me she was still there. Going about her day at the desk. There were so many of them.  Long queue, but I stood in line. When I finally got up to her I think it took her a while to remember me. I said I was the one with the red beret, came in some time ago. And she said ‘right, of course’. ‘What can I do for you?’ 

Then -- I, uh, just spat it out without thinking too much about it. Asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me. She looked a little surprised, and I could tell her friend next to her was trying not to laugh.

But she said okay. Said she got off work at six that night, if I was free. I wasn’t, you know. Had a schedule with Manny that night. Figured he’d understand though. So I said yes.”

 

“She told me to meet her outside the hotel at half past six. Then I had to go, because the guys in the line behind me were getting pissed.

I got there sixteen minutes early that night. She was a little late, but I didn’t care. Came out the door wearing this fine dress, with her hair all done up and jewels hanging from her ears. Hell, I wasn’t even sure it was the same lady, she really went all out,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “And there I was, in shirt and denim.”

 

“Where’d you guys eat?”

“She let me choose. Probably testing me...or something,” he smiled and hesitated a little before answering, “I took her to the fancy place across the street. What was it, Ultra Luxe?”

“...holy--why there?!”

 

"You - hah - should’ve seen the shoes she wore. Didn’t want to make her walk. Looked like it hurt. Thought she’d stand out less in that kind of crowd anyway.”

“Apparently they serve people meat there.”

“I know the rumors. Anyway, we had gecko. I’m sure of it."

 

"Blew a month’s pay on that one dinner. We didn’t really enjoy it though. Too…edgy for us. But we had a great chat. She talked most of the time, I listened.

And...at the end of the night I walked her to her room. Door."

 

Boone didn’t go on. He kept a small smile on him and just continued walking in silence after that, never talking about how his first date with his wife ended. The courier didn’t try to ask.

The three of them walked down Highway 95, setting sun casting their long shadows over the golden wasteland.


	8. Chapter 8

Novac

 

 

They couldn’t afford to waste time looking for a canine brain that may or may not be out there in the wastes, especially when Rex was showing more and more signs of random aggression. Back at Charleston, Asher had passed him a dino plush he’d found and he’d happily chewed on it for a few minutes, before he suddenly growled and viciously started attacking the soft toy. Tore it apart in a matter of seconds and snapped at the pieces of stuffing that flew everywhere. The two men just observed the dog in shock.

So the three of them ended up travelling back to Novac to visit Old Lady Gibson because they needed a new brain for Rex as soon as possible. Ash had grumbled loudly during the short journey from the scrapyard to the motel, about how that lady was a genius at repairs but was way too greedy for caps. Boone didn't actually have a problem with Gibson because she did a good job on his rifle, but he just let that one slide because he thought he probably just hadn’t gotten his sugar fix yet.

"Where’s she gonna put all that caps after she dies?" Ash mumbled as they entered the Dino Dee-lite carpark. They went their separate ways to their own rooms for the rest of the afternoon.

 

* * *

 

That night Ash brought Rex downstairs and knocked on Boone's door, wanting to give him some of the lizard stew he'd fixed up for dinner. When the door opened Boone was peering from the inside, looking cleaner than usual without the wasteland dirt all over his face, wearing an old torn t-shirt and a damp towel around his waist.

If Ash had gotten flustered from that he didn't show it. His eyes glanced down and went back up in a matter of seconds.

"I'm sorry, were you in the middle of a shower or something?" he said as Rex just trotted in without a care in the world. Ash made a move to stop the dog but Boone said it was fine.

"Uh, here," Ash said as he glanced at the room behind Boone rather distractedly because he saw a couple of things that were surely Carla's. Well, Boone would never have used any of those, he was sure. Her handbag on the carpet and her clothes hung behind the closet door that was ajar.

"This is for you," he passed Boone the bowl of stew he'd been trying not to spill on the way down the stairs.

"Huh...,” Boone looked at it, slightly confused. “Thanks,” he said.

"Just thought you might want somethin' to eat," Ash looked back at him. "'s nothing much, sorry. And uh, got anything to drink? I'm out."

"Figures," he chuckled while Ash tried to look innocent. Boone went in to look for his opened bottle of scotch. He thought it’d be alright for him to come in, better than staying at the doorway and talking with the door wide open. "You can come in."

"Can I?" Ash asked as he looked around the room. "I won't mess anything up."

"It's fine, come in," Boone said with slight annoyance.

Sorry, Ash mumbled as he walked in and closed the door.

 

He took a seat on the handle of the couch, as if he was trying not to take too much space in the room. Boone was out at the back putting on a pair of pants, probably. He petted Rex who sat in front of him as he looked around the room.

There was a bottle of wine on the table next to the bed. Couldn't really imagine that man drinking wine. Had that been Carla's? There was also a lit cigar on an ashtray on the plastic dining table. A small empty vase on the nightstand, with an old lipstick sitting next to it. A large stain on the carpet, looked like blood, and like someone had tried to clean it a long time ago but failed. That...surely couldn’t have been from Carla. Could it?

He was snapped out of his daydream when Boone came back with the scotch and two shot glasses.

"Oh," he said as he eyed the glasses. Guessed he was staying to drink. Maybe it was only courtesy, since he was drinking someone else’s scotch. He sat at the dining table after Boone placed the bottle there, but when Boone sat down as well and started chomping down on the stew he wandered back to the couch with a filled glass in hand. It was awkward watching someone eat.

"You want some salt with that?" he asked and took a sip.

Boone shook his head, "It’s actually pretty good."

"Oh. Thanks.” He was never much of a cook. Ray’d always done it. What had this guy been eating after his wife was gone?

 

They sat on the couch drinking after dinner, in partial silence. Rex was napping under the old TV. They started talking a bit more loosely after getting a few glasses in them.

The courier had asked about Bitter Springs. Boone didn’t want to talk about it. Then they’d argued a little about the NCR. The courier thought their pre-war ideals were moot, Boone thought he'd just been biased against old world values because it took one important person away from him. Then Ash got mad and wanted to stop talking about it.

He sighed. Two young men, one more bitter than the other. Talk about awkward social calls. It was only eight, but he had considered saying goodnight already.

 

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, drinking, then Ash started asking about Carla.

"Did you ever...take any of her things away?" he slunk into his side of the couch.

"No. All I could throw was that,” he nodded towards the empty vase across the room, "plant she used to take care of."

"I see.” Asher emptied his shot into his gullet. And then stared at the glass thoughtfully, "hey."

"Hm?"

"Why d'you have shot glasses?"

Boone frowned and looked over, "What, I'm not allowed to have tiny cups or something?"

"No, like," he smiled in a daze as he thought about how to phrase it properly, "I don't ever see you drink shots. And there's two of 'em right here. Did she drink?"

"Yeah, once in a while. More than me, actually."

"Don't like drinks?"

He shrugged, "Prefer smokes."

Ash poured a refill for the both of them. It was his sixth one, Boone had just finished his fifth and was lighting a fresh cigar he'd just trimmed. He blew on the lit end gently. The courier just watched as he placed the other end in his mouth and drew in a breath.

After a few seconds he exhaled, thick smoke flowing past his lips.

It was lulling, pleasant to watch. Ash spun a finger lazily in the smoke and created a small swirl around it. For some reason Boone found that amusing, he laughed. Ash smiled as well. Asked if his wife had smoked too.

"Sometimes." 

"Y'know ‘s bad for you, right?" his words were slurring more and more. Sounded a little high now.

Boone just grunted, he’d heard the whole spiel before.

"Should quit while you still can."

“Whatever.”

“'ey, seriously, man.”

"Make me," Boone smiled somewhat cheekily as he held the cigar at his mouth.

Ash paused in surprise and raised his brows. He scoffed, in partial disbelief at what he'd just said. Was this the old Boone that everyone had talked about? He shook his head and smirked. 

“Freakin’ child,” he said as he reached out and tried to snatch it away.

But the other man just faced away in one fluid motion, cigar still in mouth. He tried taking it away again but he just moved further, both of them grinning and laughing like fools.

 

The courier suddenly wanted to try smoking it too. Boone didn't believe him, but then gave in when he started whining about how Ray had never let him try it even once.

“Who’s the kid now?” he muttered and passed the cigar over.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Ash said as his eyes glanced upwards once. He held the cigar awkwardly between his thumb and middle finger.

Boone told him how to smoke it. Don’t inhale it into your throat, it’s not a cigarette, he said. Just suck and keep it in your mouth for a little bit.

Ash hesitantly placed the cigar in his mouth, feeling the cold dampness of the used end. Saliva. _Bleugh_.

He glanced at him, as if to confirm that he was placing it right. Boone just raised his eyebrows and nodded at the cigar.

He sucked in, but then made a face when the smoke was in his mouth. It tasted like tar, and it was terrible. He couldn’t manage to keep it in as long as the other guy did, and started coughing and spitting out smoke. The smoke didn’t look so smooth coming out of his mouth...

“The hell is this?” he exclaimed as he coughed again. Boone shook his head and took it back.

 

Ash moved closer to take a better look at how he smoked. Their knees touched and his arm stretched out along the couch behind him but thanks to the alcohol neither of them seemed to care.

Boone held it up demonstratively, looked at him, placed one end between his lips, and pulled smoke slowly. As if also taunting him by showing how well he did it. He savored the warm, woody flavor for several seconds. And then lifted the end off his lips just a little, and blew out the weighty smoke, ever so slowly. It looked almost sensual. And how did he make it look so delicious? Ash wondered in envy.

Gimme, he said after watching someone do it properly. Boone passed it to him.

Their heads were just inches apart now. He kept his eyes on him as he watched how he tried to do the same thing with the cigar. Ash managed to keep the smoke in slightly longer this time. When he blew it out he did it too thoroughly, and the smoke dissipated before it could cloud around them on the couch.

Ash coughed, then chuckled like a kid. “Definitely not some’n for me,” he said, swaying faintly as he held it up against Boone’s mouth himself.

He smiled when the other man let him hold it there for him while he placed his lips on it. Boone languidly glanced at the cigar, then back at him. He was gazing back too, with something new under his half-lidded, drunken eyes.

 

The mood was becoming different. And they both knew it. The scotch and smoke blurred their minds and the whole room around them, and they were sitting so close they could smell the whiskey in each other’s breaths, could see the nuances in their irises.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Boone said quietly, smoke spilling out with every syllable. Asher didn't say a word.

They finally broke eye contact when Ash's eyes moved away, flitting down along Boone’s rounded jaw. Chin. Shirt collar. And then at cigar he’d been holding against the other man’s lips. He blinked lazily, kept a dull smile on his face as he pulled the cigar away from him and moved closer. He paused for a moment when their noses almost touched, like he was testing the waters. Pretty awkwardly.

 

Boone kept dead still when he felt lips brush against his own, tightly shut ones.

The courier leaned much nearer now, right next to his head, and he could feel him right beside his ear, his breathing.

They stayed still for a long moment, quiet, as if Ash was half-expecting him to pull away. He didn’t, and didn’t even care about thinking why. Maybe he just welcomed the distraction. Seemed like all he could do was distract himself, lately, with the cyberdog, with whatever they were doing now.

He felt some quiet, tentative kisses on his ear, and a hand on his shoulder on the other side. It felt a little odd, sitting on a couch with someone’s arm behind his head. He’d always been the one doing it to Carla.

His eyelids drooped, gazing at nothing in particular as he felt licks and kisses against his ear, the other man’s stubble rough against his cheek. It was weird having someone else's beard against his face, but what was being done to him felt good, he could admit that. Felt lips moving down towards the nape of his neck, taking a deep breath against his skin, licking, and very gently biting. He frowned a little at the way it tickled.

He thought about Carla and remembered a time when he’d done these same things to her. She had always giggled when he kissed her neck.

 

He finally turned towards the other man and kissed back. Only he held it on his lips and used tongue. Held onto the back of his neck and pushed in further, drawing a small hum from him. Ash tugged at the rim of his loose sweatpants, ever wary of how far he wanted to go. But he didn’t give a shit. Their tongues battled, Boone wanted control, kissed again and again, with more force than necessary as he took Ash’s hand by the wrist and led it towards his crotch.

The courier just chuckled quietly against his lips, still tipsy from the drinks. He palmed the area slowly, and traced his fingers along the hardening form of his manhood underneath the grey cotton fabric.

Their breaths quickened, it was getting warm all around them. Boone pulled away from the kiss and lowered his head. Fuck, it felt good. Couldn’t get it up since Carla. He hadn't tried. Been a while. He leaned his forehead on Ash’s shoulder, groaning under his touch. Could hardly believe what they were doing.

Glazed eyes on the door, Ash rested his lips against the top of his head, with one hand working down under and the other arm laid across his back. They stayed like that for some time, just the sound of heavy breathing and fabric rubbing on fabric in the room.

 

Then Ash bent down to him. “You wanna take me?” he whispered into his ear. Didn’t even say it seductively. Just asked in earnest, like he was offering a seat.

Boone kept his eyes closed, panting erratically. He merely turned his face and stayed still against the crook of his neck as his answer. Could smell him, somewhat metallic, wasn't nice. Carla was very different.

The courier glanced at the bed. After a moment of contemplation he asked if he wanted to stay on the couch.

“It's fine,” Boone mumbled. He stoically tore himself away and got up from the couch. The other followed without a word.

Rex, who’d woken up by now, was peering at them from under the table, head resting on the carpet. But the both of them were so gone they didn’t give a damn about the dog watching. Boone slumped against the headboard while Ash didn't wait, pulled his pants off and took his cock in his mouth. Shit, that was fast.

 

Tongue. Teeth. He couldn't seem to put it in as deeply as she could. He leaned his head back and watched the ceiling above, chest heaving, while his cock and balls were sucked, licked, fondled with.

The smell of Carla’s hair wafted up from the pillow next to him. Been a month and a half since it'd been used, but he could still smell her. He closed his eyes, hearing the obscene sounds from and below him, seeing his wife’s sleeping face in his sobering mind.

His fingers ran through the courier’s hair below him. It wasn’t stiff and thick, there weren’t ringlets. It wasn’t Carla’s. But he tried to imagine it was.

Ash tongued the tip of his cock and he leaned forward abruptly, made a droning noise of pleasure. Oh hell, Carla used to do that to him too, he liked that. _Where was she?_

 

Ash said something but he missed it.

“Huh?” Boone mumbled as his eyes blinked open to look down at him.

“D’you have a condom,” he repeated and went back to licking and sucking the shaft. _Oh._

“They’re right here,” he cleared his throat and motioned towards the dresser next to the bed, not sure about why he would need one. He’d never done this with another man before. Was it the lube?

“Get it for me,” Asher mumbled. Even tacked on a ‘please’ after that.

 

Boone looked down at him. When he showed no signs of stopping what he was doing, he leaned over the side of the bed and opened the dresser to look for a one. All the while with Ash giving him head. Made it a bit difficult to concentrate on tearing a packet off the chain but he got it in the end. He passed one to him.

“Thanks,” Ash said from below. Boone didn’t know how he could stay polite doing what they were doing.

Ash removed his jeans. He tore the packet open and slid the condom over two fingers, and went on to continue pleasuring him as he slid his fingers into his own entrance, working to stretch it as best he could. Boone watched him this time, from under furrowed brows. Didn’t want his thoughts drifting elsewhere again, it could end up agonizing.

The courier’s eyes were shut tight as his head moved up and down, fingering himself, moaning sometimes. Hell, it looked like he was concentrating or something. Boone frowned, wondering at the back of his mind why he was trying so hard. 

After a few minutes Ash took off the condom from his fingers and stretched it over Boone's hardened cock. He slid up to nip and lick at his chest, “Can you get behind me?” he muttered, not daring to look at Boone as he said it. 

They switched places, got onto his knees and elbows underneath the other man, facing the pillows that he’d tried hard not to touch because he didn’t know which one was Carla’s. Boone bent over him, a hand on his hip, almost instinctively. Could feel him squirming under him, against his chest, two layers of shirt fabric between them. Ash had whispered impatiently, something about turning off the lights, but Boone ignored him. Absolutely didn't want to drag this out any longer than he could help it, and he began to slide into him.

 

Ash swore and started to take disconnected breaths as he was being filled up. Slowly, wait, alright, came his breathy instructions. Boone just obeyed, till it was all in.

He sighed, head trying hard to focus on nothing but the heat and tightness all around his cock. It really had been a while. How the hell did he manage to take it up his ass like that? He sure as hell couldn’t. Move, Ash whispered, and he started pumping into him, breath caught in his throat. He moved slowly at first, but got faster when he felt Ash’s hand holding tightly onto the arm he’d rested next to his head.

Boone was controlling himself, groaning a little every time he moved, but the courier didn’t even try. He was vocal, moaned and swore repeatedly as he was fucked from behind. He sank his head into his arms, feeling every little move Boone made inside him. The last time someone did this to him was - a long time ago. He’d loved it. _Loved him. Fuck, now wasn’t the time. Stop._

“Harder,” he growled in frustration in between the moans, “ _co_ _me on._ ” Just wanted to forget for a night, he knew the other man did too.

Boone thrust deeper, faster. Hell, it felt animalistic. With a dog possibly watching them, nonetheless. He’d never done anything like this with her. Never.

He leaned down, groaned as he laid his chin above his shoulder, feeling the muscles move and twitch with every pump. The bed creaked under them as his cracked moans and Ash’s muffled noises and sobs filled his pounding ears, calling out for someone else under his breath.

 

Boone was getting close. He tried hard not to think about anything but the tightness of the hole he was fucking, but that just made it harder not to. 

His head spun uncontrollably with stray thoughts. Fragments of memories, of Carla’s laughter. The children crying. His unborn child.

 

Radio command. Carla straddling him. Carla being grumpy. Manny.

 _Stop that_ , don't let your mind wander. He was taught to live in the moment, so why not now? But even the bed was creaking the same way. 

The courier swore underneath him, again and again. Struggled between trying to focus on the now but at the same time ignoring the sounds that he had no desire at all to listen to coming from below, from the person right here.

Hatred. Guilt. He could suddenly smell gunpowder in the air, and he saw Canyon 37.

‘Let me help you’. 

‘It’ll be better for the baby.’ 

‘You wanna take me?’ 

‘Have you thought of a name?’

_‘Craig?’_

 

_Oh. Hell._

 

His eyes squeezed shut and he came with a short cry, trying not to lean down to the other man below him. He groaned, chest pressed against Ash’s back, as the mild spasm died down.

It was a minor release, and wasn't such an incredible one. Didn't feel as good as he'd hoped but it wasn't a woman under him, after all. It took some long moments before his breathing finally grew even. 

The courier’s panting was gradually slowing down as well. Still kneeling below with his face hidden in his hand, as if he was praying. Boone realized he was still in him, and he immediately withdrew, eliciting a sharp groan from him.

He flopped down to his back on the other side of the bed while the other man was face-down. Neither of them said a word.

He found himself staring at the ceiling again. Hands were shaking. His head on the pillow his wife used to sleep on, and he could smell her once more. Missed her. Now, more than ever. And he felt stupid, bedding someone else where Carla and him used to slept together. It didn't feel amazing like it did with her. Over pretty quickly too.

_Shit. What the hell was I doing?_

 

Everything was starting to feel futile as his mind drifted back to reality. The thoughts spiraling in his head had vanished, all that was there now was some sort of feeling of helplessness.

He just wanted the courier to leave. He glanced over from the corner of his eye.

Ash had his head still buried in his arms, his back slowly moving and down with his breathing. Seemed he was no better, though Boone couldn't really figure out why. Wasn’t he the one who’d started this?

 

Asher laid still. His arousal hadn’t been taken care of, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to get out of the room.

He’d thought it’d be fine, unhinging their despair in one night together. Forgetting their grief. Two broken people seeking temporary refuge in each other.

But they’d ended up a collective mess instead. He would’ve given anything to hear his beautiful boy breathed, groaned, moaned the way this other man did just now.

He hated it. Hated himself. Hated not being able to move on. And hated, above all, the sheer _idea_ of moving on. He would’ve laughed bitterly if he wasn’t trying so hard to fight back his sobs. _Fuck._

 

He took a deep breath, and then got up suddenly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He picked up the jeans he’d flung to the floor and put them back on, not caring about his own untended hardness. He’d take care of it when he was alone. Whether anyone believed it or not, he just wasn’t in the mood.

He subtly looked behind him from where he sat and saw Boone lying on his back, arm over his head. Probably shaken up from everything. Guessed they both were.

"I'm...gonna go now," he mumbled as he got up. He tried to keep his sentences short, didn’t want the other man to hear the trembling in his voice.

He grabbed the almost-empty bottle of scotch and headed for the door. "Um... I'll see you tomorrow. Sorry," and with that, he was out of the room.

 

A temporary fix. That ended up making them both feel worse after. Boone let out a long sigh and clutched his face. 

Rex came over to the side of the bed and looked at him with beady eyes, rather confused about why the other human had left the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry, I honestly suck at writing already, so...writing a sex scene? Haaahaa. Sigh. Well, practice makes perfect...


	9. Chapter 9

 

The next day, Boone brought Rex and knocked on the courier's door. They'd been up since the sun rose but knowing how Ash was a night owl he’d waited till it was midday to approach him. 

There was no answer. He knocked again, louder, and this time he could faintly hear him spit out profanities before the door opened a sliver. His head fitted through the opened crack. He said hello, but it sounded more like an angry threat with that death glare in his red, sleepy eyes. But his frown immediately dissipated into a mild look of surprise when he saw that it was just Boone.

"Oh, hey," he said, and then cleared his throat when he heard himself sounding like there were two of him speaking at once, "sorry...uh, what time is it?"

He kept blinking, as if it was painful trying to keep his eyes open too long. Other than his morning breath he seemed to stink with alcohol too. Boone sighed in frustration.

"It's past one. Don't you wanna get out of here?"

Then Ash sighed too, massaging his closed eyes. From the opening Boone could see a little bit of the room behind him. It was dark and it was a mess, there was a vault suit draped over electronic parts and ammo cases scattered on the couch and candy wrappers on top of that.

"I...I'm sorry. Can you give me like, one more hour, please?" he said with his voice still gravelly. He cleared his throat again, "I'm so sorry, I'll come get you as soon as I'm done."

Boone frowned, "Fine."

Sorry, Ash had said once more before closing the door on him. He apologized a lot, he’d said he never did it unless he had a reason to, but it sometimes became annoying.

Boone looked down at Rex who was peering down at his boots. He opened the door a little and gave him a pat on the butt to make him go in. Maybe that'll make the courier take less time. Once Rex was in he snapped the door shut and made his way downstairs. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard him retching, very loudly, from beyond the door.

 

* * *

 

After Rex got his new brain, the three of them went straight back to Freeside to send him home. Boone was very unhappy and Rex had whined when they'd left him, but definitely looked happy to be with The King again. The both of them had agreed that no matter how fond they were of his company, Rex shouldn't ever be caught up in anything they got into. Especially after going through so much trouble for the brain.

It was obvious how having the dog around had helped Boone. The courier guessed the animal therapy thing worked well, and it became clearer during the time after Rex had left because Boone spoke even less and didn't give the small fleeting smiles that used to come naturally whenever the dog did silly things.

Boone was deteriorating at an alarming rate and he desperately wanted to help, but didn't know how.

The man wasn't much of a talker and Ash was effectively the opposite of a conversation wizard, so any attempts at prodding just ended in crazed frustration on both their parts when Boone told him to shut it. He'd tried again and again, and was shot down each time. Boone wished he'd screw off, hated his ridiculous attempts.

"I don't like your fucking attitude."

"Don't like your stupid questions."

Anger was infectious in the pair, and Ash soon felt dread alongside the will to help every time they spoke even a word to each other. He'd considered just splitting up but could never bring himself to do it, and it wasn't like he spoke to anyone else enough to have been able to trust his back to them. For better or for worse, they were going to do more travelling together. Miserably.

 

That night in Novac was a mild mistake, and when the dog left his days reverted to revolve around the fractures in his mind. But the breaking point, the courier supposed, was the time after that one particular visit to the Lucky 38. Ash had returned to their hotel room and had been very quiet for the rest of the day.

Boone didn’t seem to have cared enough to ask what was up. He didn't even have to, because before lights out, Ash finally told him he'd decided to take House's side in all this.

 

* * *

 

Nellis AFB

 

Ash noticed the small twitch in his face when he told him they were to travel to Lake Mead to do something for the Boomers.

"We have to?" he asked in a wary tone. Ash raised his brows, "It's alright, it's not too far from here."

His eyes fell, face darkened. Ash asked what was wrong.

"Nothing. Sorry," he said quietly before he got up and left the hangar. Ash frowned, fed up with the secrecy, and didn’t follow him outside.

 

It was late evening, every one of the tribe members were making their way to the mess hall. Some of them eyed him suspiciously, some looked relatively concerned, he ignored them all.

He paced around the air strip. Walked, and walked, around the fringes of Nellis under a new moon. For what felt like hours, but it had probably only been for over one. 

He stopped, finally, near the solar arrays that he’d passed for the third time. Stood next to the generator building for some time, staring at nothing, before he wearily slumped against the concrete wall with a painfully exhausted mind. 

_Cold. Shivering. Forehead hurts. Frowning too much. Felt like a headache coming along too._

He slid down to the ground. Half crouching, half leaning. Staring at the soil.

 

Things were worse than ever. He didn't have distractions anymore. The dog had left, the courier might not be around long because Boone had been considering leaving. Especially since he was just being House’s little pet now. Unbelievable.

Ash had always told him to pick up a hobby. But the bottom line was that he absolutely couldn't find the drive to do anything. Except killing, which he’d thought he had enough of, but apparently not.

He felt pathetic, falling in so deep in this hole yet, seemingly, refusing to climb out. It wasn’t like he was the only soldier pulling the trigger at Bitter Springs that day. He didn’t know how the rest of them dealt with this. Did they run like he did? He hadn’t asked. Didn't really matter.

He’d thought the courier could help. Thought he could be the one who pulled him out at some point. Guessed not. That guy was losing his patience with him, he could tell. Good riddance. Guessed he couldn't sit this storm out after all. It was all just talk, all that wanting to help. Been betrayed, just like in Novac.

Everyone did, in the end. Probably better this way, no dragging any other poor soul into this black hole of rotten karma.

 

Lake Mead was south of Nellis, south of Bitter Springs. He’d been there before.

 

Bitter. Springs. Always sat in a different light in his eyes. Name didn't mean much, it was what he saw in his head whenever he heard it that was the problem. He wished everyone would just stop talking about it. Stopped talking about that place and what the republic had done. By everyone, he'd meant the courier.

He wasn't sure what the trigger was but he suddenly thought about Carla. Manny. Asher. And his loneliness. Felt like he was drowning. Incredibly slowly.

He buried his face in his hands, pressing against his tightly-knitted brows with eyes shut. Something welling up inside him, he could feel it.

 

He couldn't do this alone, his thoughts always took over. Carla wasn’t here anymore. His new friend had given up on him. Friend?

 _Alone_. Sometimes he’d embraced it. But lately he’d been cursing it. Hatred and guilt had torn everyone away from him. Or was it the other way around?

His hands shook, his breathing started shaking too. He hunched over and held his head in his hands, crushing his beret under his palm, everything avalanching around him in an impending storm that was inescapable.

_Pathetic._

 

 _Carla_. He didn’t say goodbye to her that night. She'd been in the bath.

‘I don't get what you see in this place, Craig'.

Junior. His two babies. Tried not to wish for the baby's gender but deep down he'd been wanting a little girl.

‘Just keep shooting’.

Would he have been a better father than his?

‘Stand down!’

'You heard the man. Keep going.'

Wanted to teach the kid how to shoot like he did.

‘Sir?’

Carla wasn’t too happy about the idea.

'They weren't even armed...'

'Oh, God. What did we just do?'

Gunshots. Everyone just kept shooting, ears were ringing. He couldn't hear properly for days after that.

‘You’re not living’.

_Shit, no. Calm the hell down. Moment of weakness._

 

His eyes shot open. In a sliver of clarity he forced himself to scramble to his feet and stared blankly at the ground, taking deep breaths. He straightened up, looked at the sky. Exhaled once through his mouth, blinked up at the stars several times, didn't allow any tears to emerge. There was no point.

He strode back towards the hangar. But felt like he was crawling, all the way back to his final anchor to reality. Didn’t want to break again.

Hated feeling so helpless. He hoped it would end the next day.


	10. Chapter 10

Just before they would have arrived at Lake Mead they came in contact with several Legion scouts. They’d spotted the group around a hundred yards away and took their sniping positions to pick them off, like usual.

But Boone wasn’t himself, and Ash could see it. He’d suggested waiting that one out but after Boone told him to shut it, he snapped back and took out his own sniper rifle. He screwed on the suppressor but before he could pass it to him, he had already taken the first shot. Went off with a bang, and killed the first soldier.

Ash froze, whispered to him sharply, “What the _fuck_?! We were supposed to wait!”

But Boone wasn’t listening. He took another shot. All he thought about was destroying every last one of them right there and it didn't matter if he died doing it this time. 

"Fucking bastard,” Asher said with fury at his rogue companion, thinking that the guy had finally cracked.

He took out his rifle and looked through the scope, submachine gun right next to him. He took a shot but the bullet veered due to the wind. He didn’t have enough experience to do it at this range without his spotter.

The Legionaries started scattering behind covers in the terrain to flush them out. He picked up his machine gun and placed a hand on Boone’s shoulder.

"Come on, we gotta go," he said in a silent panic. He felt Boone trembling under the adrenaline.

“Boone,” he called quietly. It took him a few nudges before the man decided to move from his place.

 

They quietly skulked around the rocks and mounds, in hopes of leaving their enemies’ radar or ambushing a lone scout.

Boone wasn't exactly in the right state of mind, he didn’t say a word. Ash could hear his breathing quickening, but he was too focused on escaping quietly to scrounge up a makeshift plan to eliminate the stragglers.

When Boone spotted two scouts standing together on a small hill ahead he shot at them immediately. Ash winced every time Boone pulled the trigger and hoped to high hell the last scout they hadn’t yet seen wasn’t around here somewhere.

But sure enough, the last one had appeared and spotted them from just around thirty yards away. Neither of them had noticed the scout until Boone yelled in pain when a bullet tore into his upper thigh. He turned furiously and aimed at the source without using his scope. Shot three times, with only one hitting the enemy's leg.

He had to reload but by now the courier had taken up his machine gun and squeezed trigger continuously while the Legionary had been stumbling to stand up.

Asher was so livid he didn't care that he was wasting ammo. After the magazine ran empty he fed more ammunition as he cut off Boone's line of sight and started walking towards the scout, precisely aiming the bullets from his submachine gun at everywhere but the man's head. The ones that didn't ricochet off the crimson armor hit him in the arms, hands, knees, and the scout finally crippled to the ground in agony, deliberately kept alive.

Still holding his gun up, he strode towards him. The scout was screaming in pain. From where Boone was he saw the courier standing before the Legionary, aiming right at his head.

It was a young man. He begged for mercy, apologizing desperately, saying that he had been wanting to desert for some time now but he'd been too afraid of Lanius, of what might be done to him. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, he kept whimpering.

“You were the _last_ one. You didn’t have to attack him,” the courier said coolly.

“But, but please--” before the man could finish he heard a single shot fired, and then, pure silence.

Ash trudged back holding his gun in one hand and the Legionary's loaded hunting rifle in the other.

"Hold on," he said to Boone, and left to double-check if the other two scouts were still kicking.

When he came back soon after, Boone was clutching his thigh with labored breathing. Ash narrowed his eyes at the wound on his leg and firmly told him to sit up against a rock.

He unhurriedly opened his duffel and took out his tools. Boone tried not to move too much, he wasn't the one with medical training but there was no exit hole, the bullet was still lodged in him. He just watched the courier stonily with the harrowing pain in his leg.

Ash took his brand new bottle of whiskey and looked at it for a moment, as if reconsidering using his last supply of alcohol for something like this. He poured some into a glass he’d rinsed with clean water to soak a pair of medical tweezers and suture set. He walked over, not meeting his eyes, and proceeded to cut an opening on his pants around the wound. After there was a big enough hole he unceremoniously poured some of his whiskey onto the open wound, not even bothering to warn him beforehand.

Boone swore loudly from the burning, and then gave a long, pained snarl. But he knew the worst of it wasn’t done yet. Wondered if he was doing this slowly on purpose.

Ash searched his bag for something, a frown slowly forming on his face. He then stopped, turned to look at him.

“I’m out of Med-X,” he said with a deadpan look in his eyes.

Boone closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. Figures. Or maybe he was just doing this to piss him off. Out of revenge. He grabbed the whiskey off him and took a few gulps. Burned his throat and he felt like throwing up, but this was the next best thing. The bottle was promptly taken away from him after.

Ash removed the leather belt around his waist. “Bite on this,” he said and passed the belt to him. After Boone took it between his teeth he slipped on a pair of surgical gloves and started to dig around the wound on his thigh with the pair of tweezers.

Boone winced again, groaning shakily through the belt. It. Hurt. Like. Hell. The center of the wound and the area of torn skin around it burned excruciatingly, especially when someone was jamming a freaking piece of steel into the crevice.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Felt a hand resting on his shoulder for a split second before it lifted off again.

“It’s pretty deep,” Ash muttered as he held the wound open wide enough for the forceps to move around inside. Guess that was his form of a warning. It was so painful that Boone was starting to whimper.

“Just a little more. Please. Sorry,” he whispered, frowning hard and clearly fazed by the sounds he companion was making.

He managed to stay still long enough for the bullet to be yanked out. The .308 round was dropped to the ground in disgust and Ash wiped the blood around the wound with a small cotton swab, one hand squeezing Boone’s wrist methodically after he was done, as if it was all automatic. Like he’d done something like this many times before.

He gently tilted his leg to irrigate the wound with more whiskey.

 

“Whiskey's great, huh?” Ash made a very weak attempt at a joke as he readied his suture and needle driver.

“Beer’s my favourite, you know. But straight spirits--” he put the first of the stitches through the skin.

Boone groaned loudly, knew that he was trying to distract him with conversation. The needle was put through again. 

“...straight spirits do the job much quicker."

His whole thigh ached till it was almost numb. Boy, he seriously needed a drink now. Not sure if he wanted to relieve himself of the pain from the wound or from his empty chattering.

“And it’s not like you’d want to carry around a dozen beers for me, would you,” Ash smiled wryly. He was obviously finding small talk very difficult. At least Boone wasn’t shaking so badly now.

He stayed quiet for a bit as he sewed up the opening, trying to remember what he'd learnt at the Boneyard.

“Lucky it didn’t hit anywhere else,” he muttered.

 

Familiar line, familiar situation. Boone made a small grunt. Maybe a chuckle. He spat the belt aside.

Ash glanced up and looked back to the suture, “Don’t need it anymore?” He asked for the sake of talking.

“...no,” Boone said gruffly and breathed shakily each time the needle poked through his skin.

He hissed a little as Ash finished closing the wound and dabbed the final bit of disinfectant on it. Never been patched up from a rifle wound without painkillers before. Didn’t want to do that again. He got a shot of stim but only after the wound had been sewn up.

Ash wrapped his thigh with clean bandages, all around his pants too. And once he made sure the stitches were still intact when Boone carefully moved his leg, he stood up and finally decided to talk.

 

“Alright, now you tell me what the hell that was,” he glared down at Boone, who'd glared back for a moment before looking down at the beret in his hands. Just seconds ago, he was gently patching him up with a clear face.

“Hey,” Ash leaned forward and crudely snapped his fingers right at his face when he didn’t answer. That pissed him off even more.

“Shut it, you hear me,” he muttered dangerously, eyes piercing the courier’s from under his brows. Ash stared straight back without one flinch.

“No,” he said clearly, “Tell me why the hell you almost got the fuckin’ both of us killed.”

Boone stood up slowly and picked up his bag, keeping quiet.

“Is it Bitter Springs, or what?” Ash said, sounding louder, more furious by the second. Guessed he knew it was nearby. Boone picked up Ash’s bag as well and started to walk ahead.

“Hey,” he yelled at his back.

Boone wanted it to be a signal for them to drop it and continue walking but Ash stomped over in front of him and held him by the neck of his shirt, “Don’t. Walk. Away,” He looked like he was ready to kill in a heartbeat.

“Fuckin’ _coward!"_  he shouted and shoved him hard. The bags dropped to the ground as he stumbled backwards.

That did it. This guy wouldn’t quit, he’d make him.

 

“You wanna fucking die, then don’t drag ME into it!” 

Boone snapped. Before Ash could start with a punch he swung his fist at his face and it landed on his cheekbone, making him the one falling back this time.

 

Screw him. And everybody else. The whole fucking world.

He wished everything would be done with him. But at the same time he wanted to make this man pay for giving up on him. It didn’t make sense.

Holding his bruised face, Ash glowered back, shaking in pure anger. He lunged forward and punched back at Boone, whom he knew could’ve evaded easily but didn’t.

 

“I’m trying so _fucking_ hard to stay alive because of him!” the courier shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Shut up.”

Ash caught him by his shirt and flung him aside, “ _So why the FUCK aren’t you doing the same for her!?"_

“Shut. The hell. Up.” Stop fucking swearing.

Ash didn’t give Boone a chance to regain balance, he swung another punch that landed on his jaw, cursing him to the ends of the earth. Went ballistic, kicked the bottle of whiskey out of his way and then threw Boone against the rock face, intending to beat the lights out of him.

 

But Boone didn’t care to take anymore. In that moment of odd clarity, he hated everything. Hated the republic, hated the fucking Khans, hated how the other man was in a better place than him, hated himself. Wished the world would be destroyed again just so he wouldn’t be the only one being toyed with.

He started to fight back, and even with a wounded leg he did with more force and effectiveness than the courier ever could.

Where Asher’s uncontrollable temper made him careless and impulsive Boone had the ingrained level of patience and reflexes to reciprocate. He was a trained soldier, and it showed. He punched back but missed. Got punched in the stomach in return. He punched twice.

They both felt like they could kill each other. Their guns and knives were so near, but neither of them picked them up. Didn’t even think of picking them up. 

They were panting heavily, from both anger and exhaustion. Several more hits and they were finally subdued, holding onto some of the boulders around them. Asher had a harder time standing up, his lips and nose were bleeding. While all Boone had were bruises and the gunshot wound to his leg.

The courier spat blood onto the ground.

“Fuck you,” he stammered. “Fuck you, you know that,” he slid down to the ground and held his head in his hand, exhaling shakily. He painfully knew Boone had purposely avoided his eyes or his nose. He did too. So really, what had been the point?

Boone, out of breath as well, looked up at the orange sky. The past few days were hell on him. It was a slump, all he had thought about was Bitter Springs, whether death would save him from this suffocation, and how he would choose to die.

He felt it coming, really soon. The fight before wasn’t it.

Everything had been so, painfully, heavy. After punching it out he somehow felt like a small load was off his shoulders. Didn’t know if it was just another peak before the crash, but it didn’t matter for now. He’d hold on while he could. He always did.

He looked down at Asher. He surely wasn't feeling the same way, being at the other end of his vent of frustration.

He was still sitting on the ground, head still in his hand. Couldn’t even be bothered to stop the bleeding, there were blood drops on the ground that dripped from his face. He kept taking deep breaths, he looked like he was trying hard to calm his rage, lest he suffered more under a fist fight with the professional. Boone felt a pang of guilt at the sight.

He stumbled towards his bag to get a clean tank top and threw it over to him. Ash didn’t stir. Probably didn’t even notice it hitting his knees. He made his way over and sat down next to him.

“Here,” he grunted and held the tank top out to him. Ash stirred, looked at the grey singlet and just stared.

“You want me to wear it?”

“No,” Boone raised his voice, “for the bleeding.” He involuntarily let out a small laugh. Didn’t know how that guy could be smart one moment and really stupid the next.

“Isn’t that clean? I don’t need it for this.”

“Just take it,” he droned. Ash finally grabbed it and held it to his face as he leaned his head back to stop his nosebleed, groaning.

 

“Sorry,” Boone said solemnly, staring down at his bandaged thigh.

It was a long moment before Ash said anything.

“I'm sorry, too. Shouldn’t have said…what I said,” he muttered, still holding the shirt to his face and staring at the sky. His voice was husky because of all the yelling. A crow called in the distance, sounding like it came from the sunset. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“I keep saying things I regret. I'm sorry, I don’t want you to die. I - really don’t,” he said, voice trembling. Boone could feel his heart sinking, wondered why someone like him was wasting his time with a dead man.

They stayed quiet for another long moment. Boone scratched the back of his neck, wanting to say so many things, but didn’t know how and where to start. The courier broke the silence.

 

“Hey, I know you’re--” he cleared his throat. Seemed he was finding it awkward as well.

“You...think you deserve, like, every freaking worst thing in the world. Or...that you’ve got nothing else to live for," he took a deep breath.

“That’s not true. I want you to know that. You just gotta find it.”

Boone lowered his head, “...you don’t understand. It’s not that simple,” he muttered. It hurt his head, thinking about all this. He wished he could stop thinking altogether.

Then Ash gave a long, long, frustrated sigh with his eyes closed.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said in a low voice. He opened his eyes turned his half-covered face to look at him.

 

“I don’t get it. I’ll never get it.”

His eyes were resolute, “This goes way beyond losing your wife. I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before."

"I’ve never had guilt, grinding me down, into _dust_ ,” he stared right into his eyes, spat the last word through his teeth.

Then he abruptly paused. And let out a dark chuckle. When he continued he almost sounded deranged, voice shaking with odd mirth.

“God, I fuckin’ wanna help you, man. I really. Really, do,” he stared upwards, eyes wide, “But it feels like -  you’re not letting me. _Why the hell not?_ ”

“No,” Boone whispered. He folded his arms and kept his head bowed, “I’m...just not ready. To talk about it. I'm sorry,” he frowned.

 

“But. Doesn’t mean I don’t want the help."

The courier was quiet as he blinked at him with a tinge of surprise in his eyes.

Up till now, he hadn't actually believed the other man had even wanted support. Boone had been deliberately avoiding making plans for the future, and seemed to be pushing everything and everyone away even if they flung themselves at him. It grew frustrating, for the both of them. And sometimes it'd seemed like he was one of those people who simply couldn't be happy no matter what.

But that one thing he'd said changed everything. He felt immensely guilty at not having been able to understand the toils of his broken mind, he should've seen it sooner. Didn't have enough empathy.

He nodded lightly, “Okay,” he said with a small smile, “that’s fine, I’m always gonna be here.”

Boone's eyes fell. The problem was that _he_ wouldn’t always be.

“I promise that,” he added, “take as long as you need.”

They sat in silence again. Then Ash got up and poured some water on the shirt to wipe the dried blood off his face. He groaned from the pain, and his bottom lip had swollen from the cut.

“Cretin,” he mumbled under his breath, “‘course I can’t win a punch with someone all brawn and no brain.”

Boone was putting on his beret, when he heard that he dropped his hands to his lap and frowned up at him. Ash just peered back innocently.

“Just kidding. Come on, let’s go,” he said quickly, and he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder, with the wet shirt still on his face.


	11. Chapter 11

Callville Bay

 

They arrived at Lake Mead when the sun dipped into the horizon. The courier fortunately had enough tact in him to avoid saying anything when they’d walked past the Bitter Springs rec area.

At Callville Bay they swatted down a few cazadors and set up their bedrolls in the boat rental shack next door, waiting for the sun the next day so that the courier could dive into the lake for the bomber. Their body clock seemed to have taken an entire cycle and they were now travelling during the day like normal people.

They made a fire on the boat ramp to cook their dinner. Asher was cooking up a box of mac and cheese and roasted meat from the giant rats they’d shot in the shack.

He’d salted and glazed the rat meat with whiskey (managed to salvage the cracked bottle he’d kicked before) and stuck a few sticks of it near the fire, salivating at it as it cooked.

The courier liked eating, and usually put a bit of effort into their meals even when they were out walking the wasteland. Hell, most of his bag space was taken up by food. Not that Boone was complaining, he’d been eating pretty well thanks to that.

 

“I’m sure you’ve got someone else to waste your time on,” Boone said to him while the meat roasted.

“Nope,” he merely said as he fiddled with the sticks of meat.

“You don’t have friends?”

Ash glanced up at him, eyes glowing from reflection of the flame. He looked down at the food again, “No.”

“There’s a reason why I only get along with dogs. And you,” he scoffed.

Boone looked into the heart of the fire. He hadn’t really registered it up till now, but the courier had always kept strictly to himself. Once, when one of the Followers had invited him for group drinking he’d later asked him, of all people, about how to reject it. Coming to him for social advice. Must be a whole new level of inarticulation. But still, if he’d spent his energy on someone else he’d probably be able to do more good. Surely there were lots of others in the wasteland that needed his company more than he did.

Ash tore off a piece of rat meat to taste and said, “Plus, you saved my life, what, six times now?”

Boone scratched his chin. It was just like him to keep count. But it wasn’t as if the courier had never done anything for him, Boone knew that. He thought it was because of him that he could get as close to closure as possible.

He had always asked about how Carla was like, he seemed to love hearing about her. And due to that Boone had somehow thought less and less about how Carla died and more instead on memories of when she was alive. Her laughter, the silly things she said, the things they used to do together, how strong a woman she was. He remembered her at her best, this was much better.

Of course, that had made him thought more about Bitter Springs instead. But even that burden felt like it was coming to an end soon enough.

Retribution was coming to take everything of his hands, he was almost ready to accept it. Realizing the inevitability in some ways made him feel a little better, like he’d found half of the answer he’d been searching for. And all he had to do now was wait.

 

Later that night, after they’d eaten the surprisingly tasty meal, the courier stayed next to the fire, playing around with his harmonica. Boone stood further out on the boat ramp with a cigarette in hand, standing inches from the edge of the water.

 

Three years ago the lake was where First Recon had filled their water canteens on the way back to Golf.

Now, it just looked like a massive basin of blood, black under the night sky.

He took a long drag and exhaled smoke through his nose. The clear sound of the harmonica glided through the air, he recognized the tune. It was some sort of old farewell song, although slow and rather unrefined compared to the version he’d heard on radio. But he still found himself enjoying it.

 

From where he stood he saw the rusty outer walls of Caesar’s Fort. Hoover Dam was next door, spanning between the ridges.

He held the cigarette up to his mouth, eyes idly gazing at somewhere between the two. In that moment he couldn’t really decide which one he wanted to shoot at more.

 

The harmonica wasn’t playing anymore. The courier had put it away, mumbled something about it being too hard, and didn’t say a word after.

Behind him he heard fabric rustling and footsteps towards him. He didn’t look over when Ash arrived next to him, hands in pockets. The two of them looked out to the dam together.

 

Boone tapped the ash off his cigarette. “I know that song. What is it?” he spoke softly, voice crisp and clear over the silent lake, 

“That was Auld Lang Syne. Well, my painful rendition of it.”

“Old... what?” Boone took another puff.

“Auld, Lang, Syne. Some foreign song. About days gone by,” he turned to look at him.

 

The dam looked so much smaller from there. He blew out the final puff of smoke and crushed the cigarette butt under his boot. He looked to his side and met with the courier’s eyes. They looked black like the lake, tonight.

 

“...what happened there?” Ash whispered, eye flickered once as he asked.

 

It was a long moment before Boone tore away tiredly. He sighed and folded his arms, looking back across the stretch of water. Turned around languidly and gazed north, at the fringes of the Bitter Springs recreation area.

The hills just looked like undulating waves, from where he stood. He wondered which one was Coyote Tail.

 

“...there was a miscommunication.”

 

* * *

 

 

They talked about Bitter Springs as they looked across the lake. The courier had called him superstitious, but he didn’t care.

 

He struggled a little in weighing out his thoughts, being more of a feeler than a thinker. Carla was the one good at this. But Ash fortunately helped with gradual, gauging questions that prompted him.

After talking he felt like a small load was off his mind. But that still only lasted for a short set of minutes before everything began to grow again. He started thinking about the meaning of inevitability.

 

Later that night, after putting out the fire, they turned in for the day at the boat shack next to the pier.

The courier dragged one of the display shelves in the room in front of the door and set their bedrolls on either side of one of the other shelves deeper in the room. He turned off the light from his pip boy, time for him to sleep.

But the both of them just laid in darkness on their thin canvas rolls as they stared at the cracked concrete ceiling of the shack for a long time, each aware that the other was still awake because of the sound of their breathing.

 

“Hey,” he heard Ash whisper over the shelf, “Maybe it would help to go back there.”

Boone took a deep breath, “I don’t think so. It won’t change anything.”

He imagined standing on Coyote Tail, like he had done many times in his dreams. “And that’s a memory I don’t want refreshed.”

“Okay,” the courier said, thinking about how this seemed like a classic case of post-traumatic stress, but didn’t say anything.

 

He could hear Asher tossing and turning until the guy finally fell asleep. But he couldn’t do the same. His head was full of thoughts, but exactly about what, even he couldn’t tell. It was just all Bitter Springs, guilt, faith, and more guilt. Needed a walk, or something. Sick of staring at the ceiling.

After an hour or so he got up to leave.

Ash stirred awake when he pushed away the shelf blocking the door. When he told him he was going for a stroll Ash insisted he took his carbine.

“Don’t go too far. Be careful,” he grunted, and made to fall asleep again. Boone closed the door and left.

 

The courier woke up again later. It was still night time. He checked his pip boy for the time and got up on his knees to look over the shelf. Boone wasn’t there, it had been hours.

He groggily got outside and looked around the bay. There was no one on the slipway or the hill. He surely couldn’t have been in the warehouse next door among the cazador nests.

He walked around towards the wooden pier and at last found him sitting on the deck, against on the wall of the shack with the gun at his side. When he got closer he realised he was asleep. He smiled slightly at the sight.

He dropped to his knees and called his name quietly, twice.

Boone opened his eyes and blinked, still looking sharp. He must have just dozed off a little.

 

Ash brought him inside, and after barricading the door again they went back to bed and fell asleep for the rest of the night.

 


	12. Chapter 12

 He stood, all alone, at the peak of the ridge.

He looked down along the valley, up at the brilliant sun shining down on him, then at the camp hidden beyond the hill. Every movement he made was slowed, as if he was underwater.

But he’d stood there many times before, he knew what would happen next.

A straggler would come stumbling from the camp and he’d take a shot at him with his rifle, with only a split second of hesitation before he pulled the trigger.

Sometimes he wasn’t alone, sometimes he’d shout at his comrades to stop, only to get a bullet to his head that came from the group emerging from Bitter Springs.

Sometimes he would scour the bloody slope after the battle and find a young girl wailing, cowering behind a large rock with an exploded stomach, and he'd fall to his knees, giving a voiceless scream.

 

But the dream was very different this time.

He'd been waiting for something that never came, everything was still as death.

For reasons unknown, he wasn’t feeling rushed, had no remorse. He felt empty, but in a good way. As if the blight in him had been flushed out and he was a clean, clean slate.

He was holding something.

He looked down, but it wasn’t his hunting rifle in hand. Smaller, lighter, it was the marksman carbine the courier had given to him last week. 

But the magazine wasn’t there.

By the time he’d registered that someone had sprayed bullets all over his body from behind. Buried in his back, deep into his heart, lodged in his muscles. But nothing hurt at all. It just felt harder and harder to breath, as if something heavy sat on his chest.

 

 

He opened his eyes slowly, saw the same concrete ceiling from the night before. The shack was bright all around him and there was a long strip of light across the floor, illuminating dust flecks floating in the air. He got up and saw that the door was open wide.

It was a scorching day, suddenly and unusually hot for a day in early November. The inside of the shack was cooler than the outside.

Boone stepped out and saw Asher sitting on the deck under the shade, sketching in his book. The courier turned around and immediately shut his book in a slam and greeted him.

“What time is it?”

“Eleven twenty.”

He’d slept in. That explained why he wasn’t too tired. He folded the edges of his sweats and walked down to the shore to wash, head filled with thoughts about his unusual dream.

 

Thankful for the heat, the courier dove into the lake that afternoon and managed to attach the ballasts on to the underwater flight device. Boone kept watch from the old timber pier. Felt like some sort of parent watching over a child. He suddenly thought about his unborn baby.

When Ash got back to shore he said didn’t want to set off the detonator until they were leaving. Then he took off the water-breathing device, threw it to Boone, and waded back into the water in his boxers, looking happy as a lakelurk. He loved swimming, and it wasn’t everyday that he got to swim like this in non-irradiated water.

Boone just watched from where he sat, somewhat interestedly, his bare feet dangling over the water. He was invited to jump in as well but he didn’t care to. Apparently he’d rather bathe in sweat, Ash shrugged and swam away.

While the courier played around, enjoying the sun, Boone’s eyes travelled over to the hill where he remembered Bitter Springs was.

Couldn’t seem to put away the idea from his head after he'd suggested it. And after the dream last night he started wondering if it would help, visiting the place. Maybe it was a sign.

He couldn’t see how it could. But kept thinking about it anyway. Maybe that was his answer after all.

 

They set up to stay another night there, in the same shack. Asher wanted Boone’s wound to heal properly before walking back to Nellis. The wound didn’t show signs of infection and with two shots of stimpaks a day it shouldn’t be long at all, before he could run without tearing the stitches. They were to start their journey the next day.

That night before dinner Boone told the courier he’d decided to pay Bitter Springs a visit. He had a slight look of surprise on his face when he said that.

“Yeah...yeah, okay. We’ll make it a point to stop there before we leave,” he said.

He was lost in thoughts when Ash asked what changed his mind. And then he asked if he wanted to go now. It was nearby, after all.

 

Boone took only a moment before he nodded. Now that he’d decided to go he didn’t want to wait in case he changed his mind.

“Okay...” Ash said as he put his book away. He paused, “You wanna go alone?”

 

He frowned at him. Now he didn’t want to go? “You’re the one who suggested it," he said, getting twitchy.

“No, I’m just asking,” the courier said in a cool tone and held his hands up defensively, “I mean, do you want to be alone when you do this?”

"Oh," Boone said and looked away, “No. No, I..."

 

"I think it’ll help if you're there too.”

“...Alright.”

 

* * *

 

When they were finally there, everything felt surreal to him.

 

The terrain around looked so different at night. Last time he was there the sun was high and the sky was blue.

The refugees peered at the pair curiously as they entered the camp. Boone looked around. He hadn’t seen this particular area during their dispatch here three years ago, but it was quieter than he’d imagined.

There were obvious signs of the Great Khans’ past hold there; paintings and tribal murals on the tents. There was a huge NCR poster pasted over one of them near the entrance, hiding a part of the great horned skull crest underneath.

 

The courier was very quiet when they walked the camp, listening to Boone speaking intermittently about the past. For some reason it didn’t seem so hard to talk about the incident now that he was physically there. But maybe that was just because he hadn’t been in the force that came from the front.

There were the republic military tents up the hill, but they walked towards the west exit because Boone asked to visit the ridge.

“Christ,” Boone sighed when they passed a cemetery. The sight of the worn down wooden crosses and studs sticking out from the soil made his guts twist. Ash didn’t say a word, just folded his arms as he walked onward.

 

Standing on Coyote Tail, he realized that it wasn’t as high as he’d remembered.

He stood at the peak, a part of him wondering if this was just another one of his dreams. But when he looked to his side and saw the courier standing next to him all doubts went out the window.

 

He was here. This was where it all began. The land hadn’t changed, but the people were another story. He gazed ahead at the pass below.

 

“I’d like to stay here for the night. Think some things over.”

Ash nodded absently, “Of course,” he whispered. “We can do that.” His eyes flitted around the ridge, the canyon, and the lake behind them. He couldn’t say anything. How could he, when he didn’t understand a thing of what the other man was going through.

He sat down while Boone stayed standing with his hands in his pockets. He later went back to the bay and lugged their supplies over to the ridge by himself, insisting that Boone didn’t move from there.

 

They were still awake after midnight. It was a cold night thanks to the clear skies they’d gotten the whole day.

Boone sat in the same spot, hunched over with the blanket the courier had passed to him wrapped around. Ash was bundled up in a jacket in the bedroll he’d rolled out next to the large rock on the ridge. They’d been like this for hours, not saying a word, not making a sound.

The courier wasn’t drinking or reading. He just watched Boone, from there, a solitary figure against the stars. The man who’d surrendered to divine will. The sight reminded him of the ancient painting of the lone man standing above a sea of fog. He wondered how it must be like to be the manifestation of another person's torment, it bothered him that he just didn't seem to have enough empathy in him to understand that sheer amount of guilt. 

Boone had occasionally looked down and met his eyes for a short while, only to go back to gazing into the distance.

 

The courier had somehow dozed off a few hours later when Boone shrugged off the blanket and picked up his rifle. His eyes shot open when he heard the rifle clicked, at the ready.

He looked up and frowned, “What’s going on?” He got up and went to his side. Boone was looking through the scope at something far away.

“Something’s wrong. Got a group coming our way,” he merely said. Ash looked out to the same direction, trying to spot it with naked eyes.

“Looks like a Legion raiding party. It’s big.”

“Might be too big. Even for us,” he added after a thought.

 

Asher exhaled sharply. Too big? Fuck. He rubbed his cheek and ran a hand through his hand, slight panic in his eyes. Why was the Legion even here? He stood up shakily and strode towards his bags for his own rifle.

Boone glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. The courier had definitely come a long way since his pistol-wielding days, and he had good situational awareness but this was still going to be a challenge. Even with the cover of night.

 

“If you want out I won’t blame you,” he looked into his scope again, with an eerie calmness about him. “But I’m gonna stay. See if I can hold them off.”

“Why are they-” Ash whispered, struggling to find words and sounding very alarmed. He never did well with improvisations. But to hell with it, after Cottonwood Cove he’d sworn to himself that he would die before letting anyone in front of him fall to slavery.

“Y-you don’t fuckin’ sound surprised,” he managed to spit out as he got himself ready.

 

“I’m not. Always figured this was how it was gonna end for me,” Boone said in an even tone that made the courier go cold. “Just didn’t know when.”

 

He finally understood now. He really was meant to have followed the courier, since that day in Novac. And he was glad he did. He was meant to have led him here, the place where it’d begun and ended.

I’m not your fucking reaper, the courier had said. But he just smiled wryly.

He had played right into fate’s hands and he had been afraid. But now he would look at death, head held high. Been waiting for it for so long. Everything didn’t have to be so tiring anymore. If the other man wanted to join him on this, go ahead. One of them had to die tonight, and it was gonna be Boone.

 

The courier slid on his gloves and took a long drink from his flask. He grimaced and shook his head, trying to stay calm. 

He readied his sniper rifle in his hands and submachine gun tucked in his belt. He didn’t even plan to move quietly, just to do whatever it took to distract the raiders from the camp. If he screwed up tonight, well, he’d deal with that later. He’d always been great at procrastinating, after all.

 

“Alright. Come on. What’re we waiting for?” he mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

“Here,” Boone handed him the marksman carbine, “It’s a good piece. Legion soldiers like to scavenge their fallen enemies.”

“Shit, leave it here, man! We’ll pick it up after,” Asher snapped. He was in no mood for death talk. Boone might be convinced he was going to die tonight, but he wasn’t. He was sure he wasn’t. Well, eighty-five percent sure. _Shit, now wasn’t the time._

 

Ash didn't wait any longer, he slid down the ridge and his boots landed with a loud thump. Boone followed, and the pair stalked their way towards the camp. One sure that they were marching to their deaths, the other trying very hard not to think about it. Boone wondered what Carla would have said if she could see him right now.

 

“We’re working together with this one. _Don’t_ run off. You hear me,” Ash whispered as he stuck close to him.

Boone didn’t say a word because if it came down to it, he wasn’t going to let a fatal shot waste itself on the courier.

 

But how ironic that after Asher had said that, they spotted the first of the wave several yards ahead of them and the courier himself immediately unloaded his magazine at one of the three running up the hill to Bitter Springs. It was a dumb idea, they had no cover there, but Boone did the same. At least it took them by surprise.

They easily took down three out of three. It shouldn't have been a problem if they were the ones doing the ambush.

They could hear the sounds of dogs nearby, around the ridge down from the Bitter Springs rec area.

 

“Pack of hounds. Three, maybe,” Boone muttered. They slunk quickly towards the ruined steel trailer at the end of the ridge to use as cover.

“Think there’s another group behind them,” he added. The courier passed him his submachine gun for the dogs, already missing the carbine they’d left behind. He readied a frag grenade in his pouch as they waited.

The dogs arrived on just the other side of the trailer, but then sped past them faster than expected. He was spot on, there were three of them but they were so frenzied they didn’t sense the pair nearby and just shot up the hill, as fast as four legs could carry them.

Boone only managed to shoot one and injure another before they disappeared into the camp. He cursed, hoping the soldiers up there could take care of them. He handed the machine gun back to Asher.

 

“Gonna distract ‘em with this, okay,” the courier muttered as he pulled the pin off the grenade with his teeth and strode around the corner of the trailer, and threw it at where he thought would be right in the soldiers’ path. He ran back to cover and covered one ear.

It seemed to work, the Legionaries had been alerted but they didn’t expect a grenade. They yelled in warning before it exploded, shrapnels hitting the wall of the trailer.

 

They then rushed out in the midst of the enemies’ confusion and took their shots. The dust cloud from the grenade provided temporary cover for them but that was also true for the other side. Boone had a better eye for this and easily took one down even through the dust.

One of the other soldiers gave a war cry and started shooting blindly in the turmoil. His second shot grazed Boone’s side but he merely winced loudly from the chafe. When he made to ready his gun again the courier violently pulled him back behind the trailer and held him there with a hand on his shoulder.

Boone was trembling under his hand, and once the enemy fired his fifth shot Ash gave him a pat, signalling the go-ahead. They took their opportunity while the Legionary reloaded his rifle. As Boone went out Ash took the other way around the trailer, not wanting to stick too close together.

 

Boone shot off the head of the one who’d fired blindly. By the time the smoke had cleared he saw another soldier ahead, along with one of the vexillarii perched on the hill further up, taking his aim towards his direction.

But before he could do anything he saw another grenade thrown towards them, and suddenly the courier came out from the other side of the trailer and tackled him to the ground from his front. A second later the grenade exploded, a large plasma field eradicating the last two soldiers. Hell, that fool didn’t do anything by halves whenever he fought.

 

Asher got off him immediately afterward, aimed his rifle at the area of the blast and walked towards it. The soldier wearing the banner had mangled legs and an arm but was struggling to get up, and Ash aimed at his head and pulled the trigger.

He was wild-eyed, and kept swearing under his breath, “Saved the best stuff for fucking up you guys, you know. Just the two of you but fucking got a plasma anyway, fuckin' hate that banner, hate that fuckin’ headgear...,” he kept mumbling.

Boone didn't pay his rambling any heed. He seemed to hate a lot of things when he was fighting. Maybe it made it easier to kill, harnessing his anger like that. Some soldiers did that.

 

The vexillarius was killed by the courier’s final shot, but the other soldier, the last one, was cowering against the walls of one of the rusty abandoned buses nearer to Boone, begging for mercy. Guess he had been far enough to escape the blast.

The courier coldly told him to shoot, and he gladly did. The shot rang through the air and the begging stopped.

 

“Fucking hate it when they do that,” Asher said in disgust, wiping the soil off his cheek. He slung his rifle around his shoulder, but then they heard distant gunshots coming from Bitter Springs. He swore again as Boone immediately sprinted towards the camp with the courier following after.

 

There were Legion hounds running around the camp chasing the refugees and a few soldiers skulking around and shooting at the NCR troopers who’d retaliated.

Boone walked ahead and didn’t even bother using his scope. He pulled the trigger again and again at the dogs and their masters, systematically. Asher didn’t register what the other was doing, they’d both split off in the chaos and focused on clearing off the Legion soldiers. So much for working as a team.

The refugees had scattered and were screaming, most of them running off towards the NCR tents up the hill and some cowering at the edge of the site. The slavers didn't care, they were too focused on the fight to capture prisoners, looking like they hadn't expected such resistance. Every one of the republic soldiers had joined the fight as well, some troopers with fatigues on and some who’d rushed out from rest at the first sound of combat.

 

The chaos made targeting tricky, especially under low light and the disordered placements of tents and sheds. Boots striking heavy against metal, Boone ran up to the shells of the old train and aimed down from there.

He lined up the crosshairs. Pulled the trigger.

Pulled the bolt, pushed the bolt, aimed, trigger.

 _Five, and reload. Repeat._ Again, and again. There were screams and shouts coming from below.

It was all very, very familiar.

 

He heard the telltale plate armor clinks nearby, promptly moved to the edge and gave the Legionary a headshot at point blank from above.

But someone else had spotted him and shot at his back. Six consecutive shots, he’d heard, but only two punched into him in his upper arm, and where his neck and shoulder met. He was too much in fury to feel the pain as he swung around to aim at the source. It was another one of those banner-wearing bastards, behind a steel column around twenty yards away.

The soldier turned and aimed away at another target elsewhere and he took a shot with his hunting rifle, but it ricocheted off the his shoulder plate. He recocked and aimed, but the soldier had already fallen dead to the ground after litter of bullets to his head.

 

That was the final sweep, the entire camp went dead silent after that.

 

Still holding the gun with its sling wrapped tight around his hand, he got down from higher ground and stalked the area, to look for any hidden stragglers. The silence in the camp weighed heavy for several seconds, before the sounds of soldiers' orders and the refugees' terrified voices mingled in the air. It was finally clear.

He called out for the courier. No answer. The fresh wounds he’d gotten started to hurt now, and there was a small dab of red forming on his bandaged thigh. The stitches must have opened.

He called again. The wound on his neck gave a very sudden, very sharp throb of pain and he winced. An image of the courier's mangled head suddenly flashed into his mind before it vanished just as quickly as it came. He called for him, again.

 

“Boone,” he heard the familiar voice and immediately turned around. The courier had his arm held by an NCR soldier who was helping him get to the medic.

Ash didn’t look too good, one side of his head was bleeding thoroughly, blood covering one side of his neck and flowed under the armor. And it looked like he had trouble walking. There were blood trails down his leather-covered legs and boots.

He stubbornly veered off with the trooper and made his way towards Boone.

“His ear was shot off. He needs medical attention before he loses more blood,” the soldier said pointedly when the courier didn’t show any signs of moving.

 

“I’ll take care of him. You go ahead. Deal with civies,” Boone said, the soldier and him ignoring Asher's faint protests about being able to go himself.

The soldier’s gaze flitted between the two, then she nodded firmly and left to tend to the refugees.

Boone tried to take the courier’s arm over his shoulder but Ash refused. Kept saying he was fine. But he stuck very close to Boone as they made their way towards the center of the camp where the NCR medic had stationed himself to tend to the wounded.

 

The camp was a little hectic, with injured soldiers and refugees huddled around waiting for treatment, some with minor wounds, some as bloodied as the courier, one man passed out. Even after surviving that distressing raid, many of them were whining and complaining because there was only one doctor and two volunteer assistants rushing around.

Ash groaned at the sight and moved away from the crowd. Boone moved stiffly after him, trying not to agitate his injuries too much. The both of them leaned against a large crate further away. Ash’s mood was foul thanks to the combination of his pain, his headache, the Legion, and the horde of noisy people. 

 

He reluctantly asked if Boone could go get their own medical supply from Coyote Tail. Boone complied and immediately walked off, bleeding wounds and all. When he returned he was carrying both their bags. Ash widened his eyes at the sight.

He chucked them down before he sat on the ground heavily, panting and looking red.

"Shit, man, you didn’t have to do that. Thank you," Ash said as he sat down and hurriedly rummaged through his bag. Boone just grunted in reply.

Asher looked forlornly at his alarmingly small amount of whiskey and poured a small amount on a clean shirt. He dabbed once on the area where his ear used to be but immediately retracted from the pain.

"Fucking hell," he hissed sharply, and then looked a little guilty when he saw a young boy nearby looking at him in shock after he swore.

 

Boone saw him struggling and took the wet shirt off him to help. But the courier instinctively bent away at the first dab, breathing hard through his teeth.

“Hold still,” Boone muttered and placed a hand on the other side of his head, feeling him trembling slightly from the shock of it all. Ash shut his eyes tight under a deep frown and unconsciously held on to the other man's outstretched arm.

Fortunately, and rather surprisingly, Boone was actually quite cautious and delicate in swabbing the area. It still hurt like shit but it would have hurt much more if he’d just shoved the cloth onto the bloody wound like he'd expected.

After a few more wipes the courier told him to stop, saying that should be enough. In such a situation he still retained enough propriety to thank him after that.

He folded a large piece of gauze and placed it against his ear. Then he simply put his beanie on to hold it there and went on to treating Boone’s wounds himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Criiikey, this was my first time ever writing a combat scene...sorry you had to put up with it!


	13. Chapter 13

Boone didn’t go back to sleep for the rest of the night and it seemed the rest of the camp did the same.

He'd been patched up so he’d helped the soldiers drag the bodies of the dead Legionaries and dogs off towards the pass while the courier, with his passable medical knowledge, helped out Lieutenant Markland around the camp. There were a few heavy casualties but everyone had miraculously survived. The young troopers were looking bright, the refugees calmer and more cheerful. The NCR soldiers had expressed their great gratitude to him, and some had noticed his beret in awe.

 

He didn’t want to be in the way of all the rushing around so he made his way towards the edge of the camp, sat on an old rubber tire next to the skeleton of a vehicle that had a Khans’ mural and a graffiti that read ‘flail of god’, whatever that meant. He held his rifle in hand and looked out at Lake Mead between the hills.

Wondered if this was all a dream, if he’d snap awake anytime, because he’d known for sure that it would’ve been his final battle tonight. But here he was, still kicking. It would’ve made so much more sense otherwise. Guess it'd been just a regular battle. Didn't mean as much as he'd expected it to.

He mind drifted to how Asher had jumped into this so willingly. For someone who tried so hard to stay alive he seemed to actively run into death traps after him, and he absolutely could not get why. 

The courier definitely cared about him. A lot. Boone had suspected for some time now that it was something more than friendship but he couldn’t reciprocate, they both knew that. Couldn’t understand why the other man so easily wasted his time on someone like him, and although they’d grown closer than he’d ever planned to, he sure as hell didn’t have the same level of concern for him. Sometimes he'd felt guilty at that, and sometimes, nothing at all.

 

He let out a long sigh as he propped his rifle up against the metal wall and gazed at the ground.

 _Still here. Still alive._ Wasting his time and someone else's. He might as well had put a bullet through his head himself, but that wasn’t how he did things. The death sentence was laid but he could still choose how he died, and as a last scorn at the face of karma and fate and the whole fucking Legion, he’d go down with guns blazing.

Or. Maybe it really was like how the courier had said, maybe his sentence was to live with the remorse. More of a poetic justice, he supposed. Still, no reason not to take premature death off the table. 

 

As he tiredly stewed in his thoughts he heard the sound of whispering behind him and he turned his head to look.

There were two kids who stood not too far behind a steel column, glancing at him nervously and smiling among themselves. Maybe they were ogling the rifle. Or the bloody bandages. Or just being kids and making fun of him for stupid reasons. Either way, he ignored them and looked away.

But then one of the kids came up to him soon after, looking a little scared and holding something small in her hand. He looked up at her in mild curiosity, the girl couldn’t have been more than eleven.

“Hello,” he uttered somewhat warily. Part of him felt sick at himself for eyeing a child suspiciously but if time served had taught him anything, it was that even children could be capable of doing many, many things.

“Uhm,” she smiled shyly and held out her wobbling hand, showing him a cigarette, “a present for you, mister,” she said, her brown eyes not meeting his own. She seemed to be acting sincere enough. 

He glanced down at it and back up at her, not sure about why a child would be suddenly offering him a smoke, “Uh…”

 

“T-Thank you so much for helping me, those dogs were really scary,” she said while she went really red.

 

“Oh,” he said. He understood now, and his thin line relaxed into a small smile. “Thanks,” he looked up at her and took the cigarette. She let out a small titter and scurried back to her friend. Then they both giggled and walked off around the corner.

Civvies always had good things to say to the soldiers defending them. It was a whole other story though, for the ones who aren’t involved.

He looked at the cigarette. It was pretty beaten up, grey and brown with dust and bent in the middle. There were ones in better condition out in the wasteland that he'd picked up. He took out his lighter, held the cigarette between his lips and lit it. Pulled smoke deep into his lungs and exhaled.

He saw the courier further away, wiping his hands with a rag and watching him. The camp was getting quieter and the crowds had thinned, he must have finished doing all he could. He made his way over,  had his ear properly wrapped now with a strip of fresh bandages around his head and under and over his hair.

“What did that kid want?” he asked, grinning down at him. He was clearly amused too.

Boone shrugged. “Gave me this, as a...thank you or something.”

“Hah, nice of her," he laughed.

 

He sat down on the ground next to him. For someone who’d just lost an ear he was surprisingly in a chirpy mood. They sat in silence, tired, watching the soldiers and refugees milling around the camp for quite some time.

Ash noticed the young girl peering at them from inside the trailer opposite. He recognized her, it was the same one that had come up to Boone just now. Odd. Why was she spying on them?

He looked at her from where he sat. She didn't look like she was plotting anything, just had an expression of interest on her face while she watched the pair. Ash stared back, looked at his companion, then back at her. He lifted his eyebrows when he realized she was actually intently looking at Boone.

 

“...I think that kid’s got the hots for you!” he said in genuine shock.

The girl must have heard him because she quickly looked away, jumped out from the trailer and ran deeper into the camp.

Boone cuffed the back of the courier’s head while he'd just slapped a palm to his face in horror and embarrassment after realizing what he’d done.

 

Silly situation, Boone’s body quivered as he couldn’t help laughing at the whole damn thing. He turned and looked out to the dam with a wide smile behind his cigarette.


	14. Chapter 14

"Did you ever tell your wife about what happened at Bitter Springs?"

"No. I wanted to. I just couldn't."

 

They sat baking under the sun on the boat ramp, the courier lying down on his back with a pair of sunglasses on his face and a box of trail mix. Looking at him, one wouldn't have guessed the land across the lake was on the brink of war.

They’d moved their stuff back to Callville and had decided to stay one more night there because Asher still had a splitting headache from the injury to his ear.

Boone figured he'd just gotten lazier from the lack of walking. But he, the devil on his shoulder, had convinced him to settle down and had quoted some ghoul, 'time you enjoy wasting isn’t wasted time.'

 

"So...why couldn't you tell her?"

"I don't know," Boone answered irritably.

"Think.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. His legs weren’t moving but guess his head couldn’t escape the workout, "I..." _Couldn’t_.

It’d been impossible, that was the only way to describe it. She'd asked about his work before and he told her everything else but never mentioned the massacre. Christ, wasn't easy calling it that.

"Was it because you didn't want her to be afraid of you?" Ash popped a handful of mix into his mouth and crunched it up.

No, that wasn’t it. "No."

She would not have hated him for it, he didn't think. He couldn't bear to taint their time together with his poison. He’d pushed it away.

"Didn't want to ruin the only way I could...forget."

The courier stayed quiet for a moment, "You preferred hiding that part of your life from her."

No, not hiding. "Separating."

 

Boone leaned back and laid down onto his back too because the wound on his neck was starting to ache. The both of them closed their eyes at the sun glaring down. Beautiful day for lazing around. It was a different world. The courier's lifestyle must have influenced him more than he thought.

"Do you think she'd have heard about it already, though?"

"...think so. She must have." She had plenty of friends, they must have said something to her too after finding out her partner was with the NCR. If she did know, he wondered what she must have thought when she saw the beret. If she had only known after, why didn't she say anything?

 _Oh, Carla._ He’d never been one for words, always did everything physically. But now he desperately wished he could talk to her, ask her, tell her, everything.

 

The two of them continued lying there, hearing a distant clanking noise from the Fort. Or was it from the dam, neither of them could tell. It was a cold day but the sun made it pleasantly warm where they were. Asher stretched satisfyingly with a long groan.

"Wonder what she saw in you," he said, Boone could hear him smile as he did, “Some of them in Novac thought she was all just looks.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

"I'd love to have been able to ask her. I mean," he added, and gave a short guffaw, "you're not exactly the most good looking guy in the world."

Boone scoffed. Couldn't argue with that.

"Not the most amicable either,” the courier said.

"What?"

"Friendly."

Oh. Boone scratched his nose.

 

"Wasn't always like this."

He'd never been a boisterous character but he definitely didn't used to be so packed with resentment. Used to smile more, and had a surly, sarcastic sense of humor that people said complemented Manny's cheeky, boyish charm.

"I heard," Ash said, “they told me you used to have a - ‘goofy grin’ -  whenever you were with her.”

Boone smiled, feeling a little embarrassed, “really?”

“Yeah, man,” he gave a long laugh, “can’t imagine that, at all.”

 

“Yeah,” Boone's smile become partially empty, “never gonna be the same again.”

“Of course,” the courier mumbled while he felt around for a candy in the box of trail mix and popped it into his mouth.

Boone took a handful as well. “...what about you? How'd you do it?” he asked.

He hardly ever asked about other people. Ash glanced at him in mild surprise and then went back to closing his eyes at the skies, feeling the warm sun all around him.

 

“I was like, a vegetable, man,” he gave a sardonic chuckle.

“...what do you mean?”

He cleared his throat and crunched a pretzel, “I just shut myself in. Never went out, never letting anyone talk to me.”

"Seem no different to me,” Boone opened one eye at him and he looked right back, pointedly.

“Anyway, everyone eventually left me alone,” he said, “they said they didn’t understand why I just couldn’t move on. Or...something like that. I didn’t really care.”

“No family?”

“Yeah, I got family,” he said, and then nothing more on the subject. Boone didn’t press on, sensing that there must have been a good reason why a guy who could talk about anything didn’t want to talk about family.

 

After a long period of silence and occasional munching from the both of them, Ash suddenly laughed and asked once more, “so what do you think she actually saw in you, huh?”

Boone shook his head, “you ever mind your own business?”

“You ever _want_ me to mind my own business?”

He huffed and grinned. Gave a pause before answering, "She told me before. Said I was sincere. Honest,” he said as he chewed a raisin, “I don’t know. Wondered all the time, though.”

 

“Oh, she also said that I was uh...I had a good body,” he said, still with a grin.

The courier almost choked on a nut at hearing that. He coughed loudly, froze, and then abruptly started cracking up. Laughed, continuously. He tried to apologize but then succumbed to laughter again, and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Shut up,” Boone was chuckling out of embarrassment. He didn’t really get what was so funny, he was now feeling more flustered than ever, “shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No! I - ” Ash managed to spit out in between his snickers, “I’m sorry, it’s just - she - " he gave another bout of laughter, "she sounds fucking great, man. I wish I could’ve met her.”

After a few moments his laughter finally died down and laid on his back once more, still beaming in amusement, "I wonder if I would've liked her."

Boone smirked, wanted to get back at him for laughing, "Maybe you can tell me. You see something in me you like?"

When he said that, Asher opened his eyes in a jolt and sharply turned his head to look at him. He was still facing the sun, wasn’t looking back.

“Wh - uh,” he couldn’t answer properly. He wasn’t sure what was being implied by such a question. Smiling like that while he’d asked, too.

 

But he didn't have to answer because Boone gave a throaty laugh and got up from where he lay. Ash sat up on his elbows and gave him a disbelieving look as he walked off towards the shed.

He didn’t realize he had it in him to tease like that. Maybe that was a sliver of how that broken man used to be. After Boone had gone in and closed the door he laid down flat again, with a long sigh.

 

News traveled fast in the wasteland. That night, the radio announced a portion on the Bitter Springs raid and the courier gave a small chuckle at that.

‘Angels’, was what they were allegedly called. He looked over to Boone, who’d just rubbed the back of his neck with an undecided look and went back to cleaning the barrel of his rifle without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to spell everything in the American way, so hope there aren't any mistakes...Also, omg, thank you, every one of you, who gave a kudos. Thank youuuu


	15. Chapter 15

Camp McCarran

 

The courier always went into quiet mode around NCR rangers and anyone Major or higher, Boone figured it was just intimidation.

So when they were to meet Colonel Hsu at McCarran to talk about assigning forces to Bitter Springs, half of the guy just went catatonic. They’d met before, but the last time was no less nerve-wracking for him. He was pacing around the area just outside the door to his office restlessly. Boone didn't know what the problem was. From what he remembered, Hsu was mild, wasn't as abrasive as Colonel Moore.

“Go in yourself,” Boone frowned when he’d asked him to go in instead. The courier was the one they’d remembered, anyway.

 

When he came back from the latrine the guy was still there, hadn’t gone in yet.

“The hell are you waiting for? Go,” he growled impatiently.

Ash just scratched his head. Then he glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching, and when the coast was clear he took a quick drink from his flask. Boone could almost hear his heart pounding through his chest. Reminded him of his time as a recruit all those years back.

He walked over to Hsu’s door, took a deep breath, and knocked twice, but a bit too loudly. He winced. Boone shook his head, it was all too painful to watch so he walked off towards the lobby as he heard the colonel calling him in and the courier opening the door.

“Hey th - uh, good evening, sir. I’m Brandt. We spoke some time ago abou - regarding the, uh, Fiends?” he’d heard him fumble with his mouth before the door closed.

 

When Asher came out of his office some time later he was smiling in a daze as he shut the door. Boone narrowed his eyes at him because he looked really happy even though he didn't have a drink in his hand. 

"What did he say?"

“Hm?” he just glanced at him absently for a moment before answering, “Oh, well, uh, he couldn’t actually spare more troops. But if we wanted to help this…Doctor Hildern guy, he may be able to.”

“Gave me this too,” he thumbed a small new key in his hand, “for the rangers’ safehouse somewhere down south. We should go some time, they might have some nice food.” Boone highly doubted that, but didn’t say anything.

 

They picked up their bags at the lobby and made their way to the monorail. Ash still had a goofy smile on his face and Boone was starting to get really curious. He asked what was wrong but he just rubbed his nose and shrugged. They entered the train and waited for the door to shut. The car was empty this time, they were the only ones.

As the monorail moved, Ash started laughing quietly as he leaned forward on his knees and held his head in his hands.

“Reminds me of him. Got the same eyes,” he finally answered, voice quivering with mirth. Boone raised his brows, that made much more sense now.

It happened to him too. Sometimes he'd hear Carla’s laughter when they walked around town, and his eyes would search the street but would never find her. Other times, in the casinos, he'd see the back of a lady with the same hair, same build, same skin, and he'd have to will himself not to walk right up to the stranger to see if she was her.  _How could_ _she be?_

He stretched his legs out and leaned his head back against the glass while the other man stared at the steel floor.

“Shit, man, I can’t stop smiling. What the hell?” Ash coughed.

 

* * *

 

Vault 22

 

On their way out of Vault 22 the courier stopped, again, to admire the plants outside the entrance. The both of them had spent a few minutes checking out the greenery before they’d entered but he still looked particularly interested in the bush with the orange flowers, even taking out his mini sketchbook to draw it. He said it was striking, he'd never seen anything like it.

His companion sighed in irritation. Wished the guy would have just brought a camera, but it was apparently too heavy to lug around. He would stare at it forever, if he could.

 

“Come on, let’s get going,” he said. He looked down at Asher who merely mumbled ‘just a minute’ as he continued staring at the flower. As if having it drawn wasn’t enough and he was trying his best to memorize it too.

Boone told him to just pluck it off and take it with him but he stubbornly said no. And then said something about plants are living things too. Rich, coming from someone who’d shot at animals and people almost every single day since they’d met.

“Tch,” Boone crouched down, snatched a stick of the thing off in one swipe and held it out to him. Like some sort of lover’s gift, except it was as romantic as the dead giant mantises all around them.

Ash’s eyes widened in mild horror, but he'd ended up taking it off him without any more concern.

 

The courier had been very cold to the doctor when he handed in the data collected from the vault. Boone thought he was a bit of a chore too, but at least he did do good work for the OSI, he highly respected that.

But Asher really liked the assistant lady for some reason. Angela, if he remembered correctly. He'd always willingly extended their conversations and now he was even starting asking her about herself. Boone just left the room and waited for him against the wall outside. 

From where he stood he saw him giving her the yellow flower he’d picked up before. He had stuck it in his pocket, head sticking out, and she’d ask him about it.

“Oh, here. You take it,” he said with a smile, “um, it’ll last longer with you anyway.” Must've been into her.

She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear as she took it gently. She thanked him. No problem, he mumbled timidly, like a little boy. Then he excused himself and left her to put the flower in a mug of water.

 

The courier’s face had been brightened when he closed the door to the lab behind him.

“Don’t you just love that accent,” he said with a huge smile as they walked towards the escalators. But not before taking a quick glance at Hsu’s closed office door. Wow, what an idiot.

“You need to get some," he snorted. The courier glared at him and looked like he had been about the insult him, but had choked on saliva instead and ended up having a coughing fit.

At the back of his mind, Boone wondered how long it would take before he could feel attracted to someone who didn't remind him of his dead wife.


	16. Chapter 16

Red Rock Canyon

 

Before they’d entered Red Rock Canyon that night the courier asked if it may be a good idea for Boone to remove his beret, but he refused. That would just be the same as running, hiding. The republic and the First Recon does what it does, but he was proud to have been part of the NCR. A soldier should be fair and, above all, be prepared to face responsibility. That was what he'd learned.

So when one of the young Khans, Diane, had sworn right at him, he’d only coldly met her eyes once and then pointedly looked elsewhere.

 

“You know you’re travelling with a fucking murderer,” she glared between the courier and him. Ash was trying to talk to Jack and her about their missing runner, but his face darkened at hearing that. 

“Hey,” he snapped at her loudly, “ _don’t_ call him that.”

Diane showed mild surprise for a split second at how abruptly his mild demeanor had vanished, but her anger quickly took over.

“Well what the hell did you expect?” she said with a louder voice and stood up from her seat, “walking in here like the freaking NCR owned the place.”

“Diane, chill, he's not doing anything,” Jack said in alarm.

“You’ve got quite the nerve, scum.”

“You got no idea what’s going on. Stop talking,” Ash stood in front of Boone, who’d called out his name in a warning but to no avail.

 

“Who the fuck are you? You’ve got nothing to do with this,” she took a step forward and so did he, a few feet between them now. Jack had stood up as well, he calmly told the courier to ‘chill’ too, and eyed Diane cautiously.

“He’s not--” Ash shot back but didn’t quite finish his sentence. Looked like he was finding it hard to defend his position too, but he still showed no signs of backing down.

“He’s not a murderer. It was a big mistake. So don’t speak about him like that.”

Boone rolled his eyes. Wanted to yell at him to stop but thought that more shouting would've made things worse. “Pipe down,” he said as he held onto Ash’s shoulder, but was hotly shrugged off.

 

“Why are you treating him like this? We’ve all suffered hell these three years because of them, and you think he’s the victim here?!”

“Shut. Up.”

Diane looked furious, “You fucking bastard! You don’t know _shit!_ ” she yelled and took a big step towards him but Jack held her back. 

“I lost my baby brother at Bitter Springs!”

Ash flew off the handle too, and had tried to lunge at her before Boone caught him from behind and yelled at him to back the fuck down.

“He was _three!”_ she screamed as loudly as she could, struggling violently in Jack’s arms.  
  


Ash swore at her in his rage, tense like a rabid dog under his companion’s restraint. Boone told him to shut it and shoved him off, away from them. He stood there panting in fury and still glowering at Diane, who did the same thing.

“I think you guys’d better leave,” Jack said in his usual out-of-it tone, but his eyes were clear about what he’d said. He sat Diane down to her seat as the courier strode off.

 

The both of them didn’t meet the sullen eyes of the other Khans as they left the drug lab. If Asher hadn’t done good by Regis and Jack they probably would’ve pulled their guns on the two of them.

When they were safely out of their territory Boone slowed down and told him to stop. Ash stood a few feet ahead and looked back at him with frigid eyes.

 

“Don’t do that again. I don’t need you fighting my battles for me, so back off,” he said. Ash just stayed quiet. 

“The troops had a hard time after Bitter Springs. People spat on our shoes, picked fights with us, called us murderers. I’m used to it.”

“So forget it,” he added and then resumed walking, “It’s nothing compared to what’s coming for me.”

 

“Whatever,” Ash sighed and shook his head.

“And you don't live to see tomorrow if you're stupid enough to start a fist fight with a Khan.”

 

* * *

 

They’d crashed for the night at a fringe room at the abandoned Sunset Sarsaparilla factory to the north. The courier wasn’t in a mood for cooking so they just ate cold canned food that night at the table.

They were both quiet, Asher thinking over what he had done at Red Rock. That had been uncalled for, and it had escalated pretty quickly thanks to him. He regretted saying what he did, it was out of turn. And he wondered if Boone regretted stepping into the canyon because of that. He rubbed his nose and cleared his throat.

 

“Hey,” he began. Boone grunted as he dug at his can with a spork for the last few scraps of meat. “I’d like to talk about Bitter Springs.”

Boone took a deep breath. Every time he wanted to do sessions like that it always felt like a tiring brain exercise. “Not in the mood," he said.

“Okay. Sorry,” said Ash, then went back to picking out balls of peas from the can and set them directly on the table. Boone blinked emptily at them.

He let out a long sigh and placed his half-finished can on the table next to the small pile of peas. Stretched out his legs.

“Fine. What is it?” he was always given tough questions to answer but he had to admit, by the end of it things in his mind always felt clearer. He nodded once when he looked hesitant.

 

“Well, do you regret what you did that day?”

Boone fought the urge to sigh again. Age-old question. “Like. I. said. No use in regrets. I don’t see-”

“No,” he interrupted firmly and repeated his question, slowly, “do you regret carrying out that order?”

 

He paused. For some reason, the weight of the question finally sank in this time. He looked down to his knees.

It was an order. He did what he had to. Been trained to do. What else could he have done? He swallowed, and suddenly remembered the young Khan Captain Dhatri had taken under his wing after that day.

“I...I don’t know. I mean. Would have been dangerous even if we’d left them alone. They’d already spotted us.”

“Okay, think about it,” Ash said. He looked at him plainly, made him feel like he was a patient under a doctor’s eye.

 

“Somewhere else, in another time, your orders would have been to stand down.”

He blinked. Wondered what would have happened if he did. Would he still have married Carla?

“Would you have been happier with that?”

“Of course,” he frowned. All he was good at was following command.

“Okay, so, what if you did, and some of the Khans had started to shoot at you?” he said. “Old men and women. Kids.”

He didn’t need to reminded about who was there.

“We would’ve responded,” he said quietly. What was the point of this conversation, again?

“And killed every single one just to make sure?”

“No. Only the hostiles.”

 

At that, Ash nodded slowly. After a few moments he leaned back into his seat and took a drink from his mini bottle of vodka.

“I think you have your answer there,” he said faintly and continued eating, picking out the peas as he went.

 

Boone stared blankly at him. Took him a while to understand what he’d meant. And once he did he processed the truth he never realized had been in slumber within his mind.

But that just made things worse. He’d been staggering in between regret and duty all this time and now that he’d settle on one it ended up making it much harder to accept what had happened. Things were much simpler the other way.

He picked at his thumbnail absently while the courier watched him.

 

“Listen to me,” Ash said in a low voice as he put the can aside and leaned in, elbows on knees.

“...maybe you gotta give yourself a chance to forgive yourself, man. Regret is what separates you from a plain killer,” his head cocked a little, as if trying to look straight into the other man’s eyes.

“No,” Boone looked up from under his brows, “It’s not that simple.”

  
“And you're dead sure about that?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M stuff in this chapter. Please just skip if you really hated my last sex-scene LOL.

Goodsprings

 

They revisited Red Rock the next day because the courier wanted to clear things up. Boone didn’t go with him this time, thought it would be a good idea for him to wait outside while the other ventured in to apologize to Diane. She didn’t accept it so easily, but told him what she knew about Anders anyway, intending to take it as a compensation if he managed to find him.

 

After that they made their way south towards Goodsprings, he’d wanted to pay a few visits to some people, and from there they were to head towards the river to find clues about the missing drug runner. 

They arrived into town near midnight, thanks to their late start, and Asher led them to an abandoned shack across town where there was one of the Strip’s securitrons perched outside with a blank screen. According to him that used to be Victor, Boone didn’t even want to ask for an explanation. It was a good place to rest though, a couch and a bed and working plumbing with clean water. He didn’t really understand why a robot would have needed all those.

 

They’d arrived into town starving, but the courier was in a great mood tonight. Most likely due to the hearty-looking piece of gecko steak he was cooking and the silver flask of rum in his hand. He’d oiled the pan with lard scraped off from the canned bacon they’d eaten that morning to fry the steak in, and in another small pot he was cooking a few mac-and-cheese-stuffed jalapeños tossed with toasted pinyon nuts and potato chunks.

The music blaring from the radio along with the sizzling and delicious smell from the cooking filled the shack, and even Boone had never felt this content in a while. Thanks to the other man’s influence he found himself starting to take a bit of joy from small things and food became, especially, one of them. Maybe Carla had been right, maybe a way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach.

 

“I like Goodsprings. They’re good people here,” Ash said while he tasted a small bit of potato.

“Didn’t they almost get killed by a gang because they were too soft?” Boone asked.

“Hey,” he retorted in a slightly threatening tone, “those Gangers shouldn’t be going around _taking a dump_ on everyone in the first place. Can’t believe they expect people to chow on their shit too.”

Wow, what an image. That guy said a lot of dumb things, so ridiculous it sometimes made even Boone smile. Painfully. Like that time he’d invited him to drink with him, apparently because ‘Boone’ spelt almost like ‘booze’.

 

He huffed, removed his boots and stretched out on the couch, “You know, you wouldn’t last a day in the army.”

Ash made a disgusted sound as he turned the steaks over, “Of course not. Rules, hierarchy, _discipline_.”

“Can’t imagine how you did it. Was it tough?” he said while he started whistling along with the radio.

“Yeah. It was, at first. Lot of people thought so.”

 

But Ash probably wasn’t listening because he had started singing along by now, head nodding along with the cheery beat. He left the stove while it cooked and hopped over to the couch when Boone scooted over for him.

He then took out a worn issue of ¡La Fantoma!, while Boone uninterestedly tried to read the cover. Couldn’t read Spanish, only knew some insults Manny had taught him.

 

Ash sang along distractedly, and half-drunkenly, as he read the magazine, “each promise broken like my heart - ”

He then looked over to the other man with a wide smile.

“It’s a sin, my darling how I lo-ove you,” out of the blue he leaned in right up to his face as he sang that particular line with exaggerated sincerity.

Boone evidently leaned away and smiled back with creased brows. What an idiot. At times like these he reminded him of Manny.

“So much in love, and yet so far apa-art…” he somehow sang and laughed at the same time, and moved back to his side on the couch.

Boone shook his head, “Dumbass.”

 

On a whim, he grabbed his hair and pressed a playful kiss on his cheek - an old memory flashed in his mind, of the sniggering men in his battalion doing the same thing on one of their nights off, he’d shook his head at them too - then he stood up to check on the cooking.

Ash was left on the couch looking dumbfounded for a few long moments, a little liquored up but still having it in him to feel taken aback at what had just happened.

He promptly cleared his throat, tried not to show it as he resumed regular conversation.

 

“D’you know, before the war there were actually rooms people could go to to sing into a mic - privately?”

“Huh. What’s the point then?”

“Don't know. Like, for fun. And the discretion was part of the fun, or something. Weird, huh?”

Boone just shrugged as he gave the pot of jalapeños a stir.

 

* * *

 

Midnight became mid-way till morning. It had been a whole hour since he’d pulled the blanket around him.

Since then he’d been lying on his side, staring vacantly at the timber panels right next to the bed, thinking all about the courier for some unknown reason.

 

_‘Maybe having to live with what you’ve done is your punishment.’_

Couldn’t forget everything that guy had said to him since the day they met, kept trying to decipher the weight behind his every word.

_‘Maybe you gotta give yourself a chance to forgive yourself.’_

 

Above everything else, couldn’t get the feel of his skin under his lips out of mind. Still couldn’t believe he’d done that.

Wonder what Carla would say if she could see him now. How his head tonight was filled with nothing but another man. She’d probably laugh. And then climb onto him, whispering ‘I’ll get him outta your head for you’.

 

Asher wasn’t asleep either, he knew that. And he knew that he knew. And he knew that he knew that he knew. _Damn_ _it all_ , he just wanted to sleep. Must’ve been past three by now.

He turned to his other side, facing out into the room. Saw him watching right back from where he laid the couch, with his usual lazy eyes. They looked pitch black, like that time by the lake. Had he been looking over here the entire time?

The two gazed silently at each other. Room was dark, they’d turned everything off before going to bed, but there was a small crack of light coming through under the front door that gave a very weak glow to both their faces. No doubt they both knew the other was peering back.  

 

Odd, that he was only seeing it now. Or, had cared to see it now. How the other man had given and given, and had asked for nothing back. As if there was anything left of him to give.

‘Gives me something to do'. That had been his answer on why. But they both knew there was likely more to it than that. Or maybe it really did hurt like hell to continue living that he had to help so much. Either way, he couldn’t understand.

It had been minutes, but their eyes were still locked together, like they were both seeing something else much more fascinating in the ether between their darkened orbs.

He wondered what he was thinking. Wondered what he saw in him that was worth salvaging, wondered if Carla would’ve liked him. She didn’t like Manny, he’d always regretted that. Nobody liked her. Wish they could’ve just gotten along. How long were they going to stare at each other like this? They both knew what they wanted.

 

Sometime later, the courier finally moved. Pushed his blanket off, swung his legs over the couch edge and kept still, eyes on him. Like he was mutedly asking for consent. Typical.

Ash got up and crossed the room. Slowly crept over, sat on the edge of his bed, looking down over him with deep shadows cast all over his bleak face.

Boone sat up himself. Didn’t really want to feel like a lady. And then he started it all, didn’t wait any longer as he decisively moved closer and placed his lips upon his.

 

His stubble scratched against his face. Didn’t think he could ever get used to that.

They kissed, lips rubbed lips gently, like how he and his wife did outside her door on their first date. She’d been somewhat impressed at how he hadn’t invited himself in that night.

He felt a hand on his shoulder pushing him down lightly, and the fleece blanket was pushed aside, a knee rested between his legs. Cold hands placed on both sides of his face as he looked up from the bed and saw him, gazing down with bed hair, giving him one more chance to stop what he was about to do. Wished he didn’t do that, it was getting troublesome.

He dipped downwards and took a long, deep breath against his neck. He seemed to like doing that. His wife instead had liked to nuzzle at his cheek when they were intimate. Then, he realized he’d mumbled that thought aloud.

 

Asher withdrew an inch and smiled. “Did she? Well, I like this,” he said in a slightly whiny tone, then leaned down to nip at his earlobe.

He licked at it. And Boone felt his hot, wet tongue lapping around in his ear, like someone was playing around with his insides. It was odd, tickled, but wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Just wasn’t used to it. He closed his eyes, unconsciously stiffening his body against him.

“Hey, relax,” Ash whispered. Gave him a quick kiss on his ruffled brows.

He opened his eyes, their lips met again, tongue-ing each other, teeth on lips and teeth on teeth. Asher did most of the work, he let him.

 

Did it with no scotch and no smoke this time. But he was craving the other man so badly he thought he might as well have been intoxicated.

He let out a small sigh when he felt the knee nudge against his growing erection, again, and again.But he wanted to do the touching too, been pretty selfish up till now, should be a two-way road tonight. Not even sure where that phrase came from.

He put his hands to use, started undoing Ash’s pants. Ash reluctantly allowed it, feeling painfully aware that he wasn’t a woman. But Boone didn’t care, he mildly pushed him back as he got up on his elbows, but then raised his brows a little when he saw how hard the other man had gotten. All from just a few kisses?

“…you really needed to get some,” Boone muttered with a minor scoff, but before he gave Ash a chance to get pissed he wrapped his palm around his cock and gave him one firm stroke.

The courier doubled over in a groan, placed an arm behind his neck with his head bowed. Whispered a loud curse as Boone continued moving his hand, trying to mirror the way he would’ve done it to himself. It was strange, pleasuring another man, and a little tricky.

 

“Since him. You ever did this with someone else?” he asked quietly.

Asher glanced at him through eyes clouded with lust, “A...few times. Not all the way,” he said in between breaths.

All the way. So that’s what they’d called it.

Ash buried his face into his neck once more and reached down, unzipped the other man’s pants carefully, rubbed him through his briefs.

 

Boone shut his eyes. If they were going to do this, they should be doing it properly. He took a deep breath - that metallic smell again, that hair, still damp from the shower - and slid off his old shirt, chucked it to the inner side of the bed.

The courier laid a hand on his breast and merely kept it there, staring at the pale skin, eyes and coarse thumb tracing each scar and gradation on his bare chest. Like the man was another one of those surreal flowers he’d tried to memorize at the abandoned vault.

 

“Sit up,” Boone whispered, snapping him out of his reverie. 

They took their hands off each other and moved apart while Boone unzipped Ash’s hoodie, slid off both their pants, everything. When they moved closer again they arranged themselves as closely as they could sitting up, the courier’s thighs over his own and uncovered chest pressed up against his.

He never thought he’d ever be completely unclothed with another man like this, and he’d never expected it to be this tame if he ever did. This was almost passionate. If he wasn’t so clouded with desire he’d have felt disturbed.

Kissed him again, felt the rumble of the sounds made against his mouth as he rubbed the both of them together down below. After an ice cold bath the two men still had whiffs of odor from their two days of travel but neither of them seemed to care.

 

Their lips went raw but no one showed any signs of stopping. As if they were two crazed teenagers, first discovering the joys of making out. Or two souls finding once again the pleasure they thought had been lost forever to them.

Boone gave a small hum and finally broke the perpetual kiss, pressed their foreheads together with a hand holding onto his arm. He was close already, but didn’t want it to end so quickly.

 

This time was different from before. His mind was clear and all he thought about was the moment, nothing else. It was liberating.

Didn’t want to finish, wanted to do much more.

 

He stopped rubbing their cocks, gradually pulled his palm away, and sat still. 

“You alright?” Ash asked as he bent down to look into his eyes. Boone didn’t meet them.

“Yeah. Just, uh…” he whispered, broken out of his mild daze and not quite sure how to put it, “there something else you can use if we don’t have a condom?” 

“Oh. Oh, I’ve got some.”

“Oh. Okay…” Boone mumbled in surprise while Ash got off the bed and searched his bag. When he came back he had one in his hand, true enough.

“You bring them everywhere you go?” he asked with an incredulous look. Ash just peered at him as he tore open the two-hundred-year-old packet.

“Should always be prepared,” he said plainly, and they both paused.

What a guy. Was he desperate, or really just hedonistic? Boone looked away, down at the dank mattress, and hid his face in his hand as he started to shake with soft laughter, leaving the courier also looking onto the bed sheepishly.

Ash sighed and rubbed his forehead awkwardly with the back the hand holding the slimy rubber, waiting for him to be done with his fit. Boone shook his head, laughter withered into a small smirk on his face, and he moved closer.

 

“Who’d you want to use them with, huh?” he whispered as he leaned forward and laid him down onto his back. He bit into his neck, bringing out a hitch in his breath, and felt a hand placed on his back.

“Well?” he asked again when there was no answer. Took the condom off his hands.

“…not just anyone.” Ash stammered as the both of them readjusted their position on the narrow bed.

 

Boone didn’t show any indication at hearing the answer. With one hand grasping the courier’s hair, he bent down and carefully placed his lips on his gauze-covered ear as he steadily ground into him. Their cocks slid and slopped against one another, slick from sweat and more, while higher above the both of them panting heavily and making no other sounds.

He slid the condom onto himself, leaned his weight on his elbows and then gazed down at him sprawled underneath. In the midst of his hazed mind, out of nowhere, he asked why they would even need protection.

Ash looked surprised for a quick moment, before he rolled his eyes sighed something about timing. “Easier clean-up, man,” he droned, not meeting his eyes.

“No lube?”

“…maybe for some people. B-but I don’t need it,” he looked at everywhere but above him. All they’d done together, and he was feeling flustered now.

 

He traced his fingers up Boone’s side and gently rubbed a hard nipple. But he pointedly retracted from the contact, definitely didn’t like that. 

“Sorry,” Ash muttered and rested the hand on his hip, “where do you like it? What did she used to do?”

“Don’t ask me that,” he said quietly against the side of his face.

“Right. Sorry.” Wished he’d stop apologizing.

 

Odd conversation remarkably hadn’t seemed to have taken a toll on their arousals. Boone brought their lips together again and kept them there as he pressed against his entrance. He pushed in slowly, last time they did this there were traces of blood on the condom, couldn’t let that happen again. Ash’s swearing muffled down to coarse groans as he was filled, inch by inch.

He broke away and once again, his breathy instructions came. Hold on, alright, wait, Boone obeyed every single one. Ash clenched his eyes shut and let out a long, soft groan once he was all in.

“Shit,” the courier gasped shakily, “‘s good.” He held onto him tightly, dragging the both of them chest-to-chest, feeling him move with each breath they took.

When it moved in him he didn’t expect to get a sudden, deep thrust. He let out a sharp yell, eyes shot open but immediately closed again when he gave another thrust, and he let slip another cry of strain mixed in bliss.

Boone pumped into him again and again as they both swore and groaned, lewd, slapping noises filling their throbbing ears. It was a cold night but the air around them had started to grow hot, stuffy.

 

Lust took over him like a storm. Made much worse when Ash clutched and squeezed the skin on his back, pulling him even closer till their slippery chests and necks and bellies rubbed and glided over another with each thrust, sweat and heat mixing under the wanton delirium hanging over their heads.

Even with his wife he’d never been one who was particularly vocal during sex. And while the courier moaned and whimpered in between ardor breaths he’d embraced it all, for the first time very much taken by every single sound he made. Didn’t bother questioning why, he was convinced this fascination wouldn’t last by morning.

 

“Fuck,” Ash draped his arms over his neck and buried his face into his sticky shoulder. “Oh fuck, I’ve been-,” he gasped, sounding out of his mind. 

Boone closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on how good everything around his cock felt, didn’t really want to hear what he had to say. Might break him out of his delusion.

Asher kissed the fresh bullet scar on his neck, “Didn’t want to lose you,” he whispered. “Bitter Springs - I couldn’t. Not again."

 

Boone pressed his lips on his cheek and let it linger there as he moved.

Wished he didn’t say those things. They wouldn’t last. Just wanted a release tonight, they both did. What he was feeling for him now was fleeting, and sooner or later, he himself was going to be taken away, by something or another. Don’t say anything.

He clenched his eyes tighter as they moved against each other, the old wooden bed croaking and creaking loudly under them.

 

But - to hell and back, he loved it. Loved this. Didn’t think his soul could ever feel rest again since the night he’d shot his wife, since the massacre. But here it was, someone who’d strived from day one to give him momentary releases from the crushing burden. A man he’d only met eight weeks past, a man who could never bear his child, a man who wasn’t Carla.

But he loved being around him, loved how he made him feel better about himself, secretly loved how he’d defended him at Red Rock, loved doing this with him. Hated that he couldn’t love him. Hated that he didn’t have the capacity to look at the big picture, to see something that sat right beneath his hazy eyes.

He faced down against the mattress, right next to the courier’s head. Eyes felt wet, but he didn’t know why. He just pumped into him and stroked the other cock continuously, giving restrained moans, breathing through his teeth, and listening to and taking in the sounds the other man was making, feeling the hand caressing the back of his head, his neck.

They were getting louder, and louder, with each thrust, each visceral moan. Any second now and it’ll come crashing down. He felt a piercing pain through his shoulder.

 

The courier had finished first. He bit down hard on him and came just as hard with a loud and long, throaty growl against his tightened muscles, his body fiercely thrashing underneath. He gasped violently for breath and squeezed at his back while he was still being fucked. Boone wasn’t done yet.

He came only later, after a few more frustrating minutes of thrusts and moans and whispers. And when he did he let himself go, let out a sharp, rasping cry, louder than any sounds they had been making through that night.

He bent over, not caring about the loud wince the courier had made when he’d clenched his hair tightly as he gave the few final pumps. Slowed down, and then finally stopped. With everything finally stilled but their breathing.

 

He stayed buried in him for several long moments, his bulkier form laid over and holding onto the other man because he was warm.

When Ash patted his arm gently he pulled out and laid down on the other side of the small bed, partially on him, partially on the cold mattress, feeling both their heartbeats pounding through their chests.

 

They caught their breaths, stayed together, time slowing to a crawl until he drifted unconscious.

He barely registered it when the courier slipped away from under him and laid a kiss on his forehead.

Barely stirred when he slid the rubber off his member, threw it out the door, and carelessly wiped him clean.

Didn’t, even in the slightest, feel him drape the blanket and their jackets over his naked body.

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

A few hours later someone knocked on the door to the shack. Three solid thunks.

Boone opened his eyes sleepily at Asher who’d cursed viciously as he got up from the couch and went to answer the door. 

He opened the door a tiny sliver and looked through the gap. Always did that, like he was hiding a secret. Boone realized it was after sunrise only when light poured into the dark, windowless shack through the opening.

 

He heard him greet someone called Sunny, in a surprisingly excited way, considering he was still dead sleepy.

Sunny had trouble remembering his name but could recognize his face. She apparently came to check out who was the one squatting in the building when someone had informed her of lights and sounds coming from the robot’s abandoned cabin last night. Ash cleared his throat and said it was just him and a friend staying in town for a night.

He then told her he’d be stopping by later at the saloon, and tried to graciously hint that he wanted to go back in to sleep. She got it, and after saying goodbye he smiled and shut the door.

He leaned his head against it, held the bridge of his nose and sighed. When he turned and noticed Boone was awake he didn’t show any signs of caring very much as he walked away and crashed into the couch like a malfunctioning vertibird.

 

Boone turned to his side, stared at the wooden wall, again, and tried to fall back asleep. Then he realized he still didn’t have pants on. Hope that Sunny girl hadn’t noticed that.

He sat up, felt around on the floor next to the bed, found his trousers, slid them back on and flipped the blanket over himself again. Oh hell, hope she hadn’t seen the pants on the floor either.

He shut his eyes and tried to sleep again. It can’t have been noon yet and since the courier only ever got out of bed past midday, he thought he might as well catch some more shut-eye.

But after thirty-five minutes of just lying there pointlessly he decided that he’d failed badly, and he got up to wash.

 

Couldn’t get the night before out of his head. His head fuzzed over with unusual thoughts as he later made a pot of coffee for two. Put a spoon of sugar in his mug.

Asher had his black, strong, sugar-less. Carla had liked hers with a bit of powdered cream, two sugars, with a biscuit and a book on the side.

 

He rummaged through their food, got out an over-ripened red apple and took a bite out of it. It was a little spongy.

He was never really one who bothered with breakfast, but thanks to his time in the army he routinely made himself have something small as a start to each day. Carla had liked to sit down and have a proper one, with homemade bread and fresh fruits. The courier sometimes had instant noodles or candies, sometimes nothing but water.

 

He finished the apple. Put the core on the table and sipped coffee, stayed sitting at the desk as he watched the man sleeping at the couch.

Ash snored sometimes, but mostly he only had loud breathing when he slept. Carla had snored all the time, but very softly. She ground her teeth pretty loudly too. As for him, she’d said he snored like a super mutant. Maybe that was why Ash never liked sharing a room with him. And he wondered how Carla had put up with it every night. She'd joked once about making him sleep outside once the baby came.

 

He drank the last bit of his coffee. Threw the apple core out the door. Rinsed his mug at the sink. Sat on the cushioned chair next to the couch. In his head constantly comparing the both of them.

Maybe comparing was the wrong word. He just thought about the two, simply couldn’t get them out of his mind. One of them, he’d expected to have been removed come morning but that didn’t seem to have happened. Maybe he just still needed more sleep.

The courier turned facing into the couch, curled up under his thin blanket and tucked his head into a corner of the couch. Like a weird, overgrown puppy. Boone watched him for a few long moments before he got up, got his own pile of makeshift blankets and piled it over him. Then he sat on the floor, back against the end of the couch. Leaned his head back and closed his eyes, smelling the stale air of the wooden cabin along with musky whiffs from the courier’s hair right behind him.

 

He opened his eyes again when the Pip-Boy’s alarm rang some time later. He’d fallen asleep where he sat, so much for coffee. 

Ash stirred on the couch, sleepily turned his head to look at him with narrowed eyes in a few seconds of confusion, before his mind finally activated and he stumbled up to turn off the beeping Pip-Boy at the desk.

He sighed, yawned. Stood there with both palms pressed against his eyes. “What’re you doing?” he groggily asked.

“Couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“Since that lady came by?”

“Yeah.”

He merely grunted, and then went off to the bath tub to wash his face.

 

* * *

 

Cottonwood Cove

 

They’d fixed up a robot when they passed Primm and it somehow had ended up following them around.

It was one of those round, floating robots, like the ones he’d heard the Enclave used to have, when he was still fresh in the army. Ash had called it Edie and started calling it a she. He guessed it was because of the steel plate that said ‘ED-E’ on it, and he must’ve slurred it together to become Edie.

He didn’t really know how to interact with it, if he ever did. Never had a way with robots. He just looked at it and it faced right back, quietly hovering in his face.

It didn’t seem to do much, only ever flew around making occasional beeping noises. At least it seemed to be able to detect entities accurately from a secure distance, so they’d been finding it handy for planning their skirmishes. Or Legion raids at Cottonwood Cove.

 

The three of them had hung around even after the Khan runner they’d taken down from one of those sickening crosses had left the area long before. There were a few lights in the tents and a few sentries posted around the riverside. Definitely no more than the number they’d taken when they came there the first time.

“Let’s kill ‘em,” the courier said nonchalantly after taking a sip of water from his canteen.

Boone huffed, chewing tobacco, “Really. Fine by me.”

He took the suppressed sniper rifle the courier held out. It’d be a fast session, this time. Especially with that portable sensor with them tonight.

 

They stationed themselves on the higher cabin grounds after clearing the single patrol there, and stayed as flat as they could on their chests near the edge. Ash had told ED-E to stay further back, not wanting it to risk compromising their position if the Legionaries saw the floating eyebot up on the ridge.

They kept their chatter low, in whispers, as they identified positions of the few soldiers milling around the site below, the courier with the binoculars and Boone with the scope. There were only four of them that they could see. That son of a bitch Lanius had probably decided not to send too many to Cottonwood since they were all wiped out last time.

 

Once he was ready, he took the shot, one after another. The rifle wasn’t completely silenced, so if he started he’d have to keep going until the last man was down.

But four or five soldiers were a piece of cake as he shot their necks, heads. It was gloriously easy, wind direction in his favor tonight as well, did it in under two minutes from where he was.

Wasn’t wearing that beret for show. And people wondered why sharpshooters never lived as prisoners of war.

The sound of the final shot rang through the air. They kept silent as seconds ticked by, with ears open for any signs of movement below, behind, all around. But there was nothing. They were clear.

The courier broke the silence when he gave a long, deep laugh, his body shuddering as he did, while he continued looking through the binoculars at all the corpses with burst heads and leaking arteries. He sounded deranged, and some might’ve called him sick, but Boone found himself smiling too.

He put the rifle away to his side and Ash put the binoculars down as well, still in his laughing fit. Couldn’t stop for a whole damn minute while Boone just shook his head, rolled onto his back and gazed up at the crescent moon as he chewed tobacco.

 

When the courier finally calmed down he glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. Ash was resting his chin on folded arms, the smile on his lips fading rapidly.

He then flipped over to look at the sky as well. Took a deep, long breath, and let out a huge sigh.

“I am _so sick_ of killing, man.”

 

* * *

 

Highway 95

 

“Hey, can I ask you something? It’s been bugging me a while.”

Boone glanced at him as they walked the road north. “What?” he asked, partly curious because of the way he’d asked.

“Well, that Manny, right?”

He grunted, eyes fell because of the disappointing choice of topic.

“I got the feeling that he thought your wife stole you away from him, or something,” the courier gave a nervous chuckle.

“I don’t know, man - but do you think he could be right?”

 

He’d expected himself to feel offended at such a question. But he didn’t, he didn’t feel anything at all. He wasn’t sure if it was just because he’d stopped caring, or if he just found it easier to admit now.

“Yeah, could be,” he answered. Asher didn’t look very surprised.

“Guess looking back now, must’ve seemed like I blew him off a lot. For her,” he said while he readjusted his beret, “but that wasn’t the case. He was still a good friend to me.”

“Should’ve blamed me. Instead of her.”

 

He took a deep breath, frowned up at the grey clouds when thunder rumbled in the distance. The courier got out a small bag of caramel bits and offered him some, he shook his head.

“You think you guys could ever patch things up?”

“...don’t know. Don’t think so,” he said, and took a few heartbeats to think about why.

 

He remembered the way Manny hadn’t looked shocked at all when he’d heard the news about Carla. And the rest of their conversation that morning had felt empty, like those comforting things had only been said for the plain sake of it.

It was in that moment that he’d realized he was truly and entirely alone.

 

“Don’t think I could ever forgive him for hating her that much,” he added, “thought he’d stand by me no matter what. But he didn’t.” 

Asher chewed his candies thoughtfully, eyeing ED-E who’d floated ahead of them towards the 188 Trading Post, “He didn’t seem to know what he did wrong, though."

“And you don’t think that’s a huge part of the problem?” he snapped. But Ash didn’t get twitchy, just kept quiet with eyes looking distant.

 

“I…see.” 

After a long moment he took a small sip of scotch from the bottle and said, “He seemed to really want things to go back to the way they were. Just the two of you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not the only one,” Boone felt a cold drop of rain trickle down his neck.

“Things change. Nothing anyone can ever do about it.”

 

It started to pour over the wasteland soon after they sat down on the rusty bar stools at the 188. While the eyebot hovered happily in the rain, the two of them stayed at the food stand waiting for the weather to let up, snacking and quietly listening to a chirpy young brunette with a traveler’s hood chatting with the owner of the establishment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shyte btw I'm sorry there are plenty of typos in this story. Really should've gotten someone to edit it first =A=; but I was too impatient...


	19. Chapter 19

Hoover Dam

 

The crowd gave a rich round of applause, and the courier made a loud disgusted noise behind his binoculars when Kimball’s rants made it through the microphone at the end of his speech.

“Can you believe this guy?” he muttered.

Boone was intently looking through his scope, back and forth between the ridge and the vertibird parked on the roof of the visitors center from their position on the sniper’s tower. “Focus,” he said to him.

“Sorry.”

 

“Uh - engineer - oh,” Ash stammered aloud when a small commotion started below. But before Boone could draw target to the area, the sound of several gunshots pierced through the air.

“Oh, he’s dead now.”

“Shit. Was him all along,” he snarled as he tracked the president and his posse of bodyguards moving rapidly towards the main building.

“‘s alright, rangers took care of it.”

He didn’t reply because that wasn’t the point. Should’ve kept his eyes wide open, but his attention had been spread too thin. Should’ve done a lot of things. That was a close call.

The soldiers were on high alert now, yelling out orders and stalking the field while the president and the rangers rushed into the vertibird on the roof ahead.

The two inadvertently held their breaths while Bear Force One took off from the landing pad, partially expecting it to blow into pieces in the air because the courier might’ve made a mess at disengaging the bomb they’d found. But after it careened once or twice, it finally flew off steadily into the western sky, undisturbed.

“The pilot drunk or something?” Ash frowned at the alarming way it had moved.

“It’s not our technology.”

 

Even after the vertibird left their sights they stayed on the tower, looking down on the troops milling around in case anyone stood out. Couldn’t be too careful, especially when one of the spies had been the dead ranger lying behind them.

After five whole minutes of pure concentration the courier decided they were in the clear. He passed the binoculars over to Boone, who was still determined to observe.

 

“So these are the guys leading the NCR, huh?” Asher groaned while he stretched his arms and leaned with his back against the concrete parapet.

“We used to see posters of him back in Dayglow, they all loved him,” he scoffed and shook his head, “but _that_ was just disappointing. I don’t know what the hell they think they’re doing with a guy like that.”

It was Boone’s turn to make a sound of disdain. He put the binoculars down, “And House is the one with all the answers, that it?”

Ash looked down at him and said plainly, “Yeah. That’s what I think.”

He stayed quiet, giving him a dirty look before going back to the binoculars. They’d once exploded at each other about this and since then they’d never spoken about it again. He’d hoped the courier had been slowly shifting stance since they had been helping out the NCR.

 

“So why are you here? Why bother giving the NCR a hand?” he asked exasperatedly.

Ash paused for a split second before he shrugged, “Don’t like what they’re doing here. But they’re doing a...relatively fine job back home, at least.”

Although the way he’d answered didn’t seem very convincing, Boone didn’t say anything. Hoped that was the last he’d hear about it.

 

But it came up again long after they had reported in to Ranger Grant, when they walked the top of the dam together under the afternoon sun. ED-E was contentedly floating around the visitors center under the eyes of one or two fascinated hydraulics engineers.

“Not everyone is like you, you know,” the courier said and folded his arms as he walked, “some of them aren’t gonna think twice about corruption. Remember that lieutenant I paid off back in Boulder City?”

“He did it for families of the fallen.”

“Yeah, that’s great and all. But why would he even need a frickin’ bribe to cover those stuff?”

 

They stopped at the edge of the dam, next to a tower with a graffiti on its concrete wall that read ‘remember bitter springs!’.

“And you said so yourself. Colonel Hsu would’ve been leading the troops now if Oliver wasn’t friends with the president. Doesn’t sound like Oliver’s doing a very good job either.”

“Yeah. I also said, the NCR isn’t perfect. We’re overstretched. But what they’re fighting for, it’s worth it.”

“Old world ideology?” Ash sneered, “exact things that made the world end up the crapper we live in now.”

“Order,” he said with ire.

 

By now some of the engineers and soldiers were looking at them bickering. The two glanced at them, and then went back to each other. Boone took a deep breath.

“We’re not going to repeat the same mistakes,” he said quietly.

The courier spoke in a low voice as well, must have felt it wasn’t in good taste to condemn the NCR’s politics in the middle of Hoover Dam, “Maybe not yet. But centuries down the road, it’ll all be the same if the NCR’s in charge.”

“Might work now, but it’s not gonna be good on the long-run,” he added. Boone stared straight at him.

 

But in that small instant he saw something else in the other pair of resolute eyes that made him feel, deep down, a small spark of doubt. A what if. He couldn’t fight it, blamed it on the courier’s influence.

He’d never read any books, pre-war or no. What the NCR had fed him all that years in the army, especially when he had been all but starry-eyed - maybe, even in the slightest chance, it had all been sugar-coated.

He suddenly remembered the warm flicker of hope he’d felt at Nelson, when he realized that he _didn’t actually have to_ slaughter those captured soldiers.

 

“What we need is a renewal,” Asher leaned in and drilled his eyes into him, voice bursting with zeal, “and we have the clean canvas right here. Maybe a new system is the answer, with only one constant power in charge. With a group comes different philosophies, different beliefs.”

“So what the NCR tries to do now, might not be the same thing once this president’s kicked out. Look at us now, from Tandi to this – Kimball,” he said as he gestured up to where the vertibird had flown minutes before.

But the thriving cities back west – back home - shouldn’t they be proof enough? Boone stayed silent, trying hard to shuffle through his brain for a worthy retort.

Never really liked politics. Because he simply found it hard to question anything. Maybe those years serving had taken a bigger toll on him that he’d thought.

 

He sighed, pushed the bridge of his sunglasses up.

“Look, House can’t keep order in the Mojave with just twenty-ones and robots on wheels. And power to one man? Sounds a lot like the Legion to me,” he said.

“But he’s – it’s _not_ the same. Don’t say it that way,” Ash tried hard not to yell. His eyes were searing, but with something that wasn’t anger.

“At least there’d be consistency with him. He won’t have to answer to a whole republic of indoctrinated drones! I don’t get why the hell you aren’t seeing it.”

 

Boone didn’t even know what indoctrinated meant, but he didn’t even really need to. The courier always used big words when they argued, he believed it was just to put him off.

“But what does he know about running a nation?” he crossed his arms and asked, actually earnestly, with a deep frown.

Ash paused, gave a small sigh and glowered at him, “I…don’t know, alright? I don’t know for sure if he’d actually be the ‘best’ guy for something like that. I don’t even know if he wants to be leader of the states.”

Boone huffed. Applauded his honestly, at least.

 

“I just really think he could be the one pulling us out of this _stupid_ wheel of fighting, and fighting, and fighting, and _fighting_ ,” he spat and kicked a small pebble, hitting the wall of the tower.

Ash leaned his elbows on the thick stone edge of the dam and held his head.

“…I can tell you he’s all about the big picture, though,” he gave a wry laugh, “did you know, he called me barbaric when I told him I shot Benny up? Said he didn’t give a shit about little things like revenge. Too base for him.”

“I…guess I respected that,” he added in an empty chuckle.

 

Boone didn’t really find it amusing. He stood next to him, leaned over the edge of the dam and looked out to Colorado River snaking dizzyingly far below, shimmering under the sun.

At times like these Carla, Bitter Springs, they all seem so distant. A smidgen compared to the scale of things happening all around the both of them. But knowing that didn’t help, just made him feel heavier.

 

He looked over at the courier who still had his head bowed, eyes pressed shut. I don’t know, I don’t know, he just kept chanting faintly under his breath - and something else about just wanting everyone to leave everyone alone. He felt a small, sudden twist in his gut.

Knowing him, that guy could’ve just up and left anytime he wanted. He surely wouldn’t care enough about Vegas or the NCR or civilization itself. No doubt he would’ve been happy cooped up in the land somewhere, alone for the rest of his life.

But here he was, trying to do all he could for his own vision of humanity. Maybe it was because of his dead beloved, maybe it was his conscience. Lord knows.

 

Either way, it seemed to be finally evident that the man was being grated down each day, bit by bit, bone by bone. Boone found himself wanting to offer some form of reassurance but had absolutely no idea how.

He cleared his throat, “Listen, um…”

“You’re all jumbled up. Don’t want to make things worse.”

Ash looked up at him, cagey, with fingers still woven through his hair.

 

“Not like I’m still getting orders from my CO. Not a soldier anymore. And I gotta remember that.”

He glanced up at the anti-aircraft cannon absently, “So I’ll stick around. Haven’t done wrong by me so far.”

“Who knows, might actually work out in the end.”

Asher looked mildly relieved before he covered his face in his palms once more and exhaled lengthily, “Okay.”

 

“But. I want in on everything. His plans, yours. Can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” Boone said firmly and looked down at him.

He looked straight back with eyes crystal clear.

“Yeah. Of course. I’ll let you know.”

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

 

The courier got an odd surprise when he saw the three-story-high cone of twinkling lights that had been put up right in the middle of the Strip.

That wasn’t the only anomaly – some of the casinos had lights strung around the lobby doors with red and green decorative banners behind the windows of their displays. Even along Freeside there had been one or two shops having more embellishments than usual.

 

“What the hell is going on?” he asked in astonishment as he stared up at the light-sculpture right in front of him.

“Christmas,” Boone answered. He took a step closer to it and touched the tiny lightbulbs. They weren’t as warm as he’d expected.

Ash let out a long ‘ohhh’. He hadn’t been keeping up with the dates, and was never one who celebrated anything except Ray’s birthdays.

The lights made much more sense now. But what was with the red and green banners? And that bright funnel object? Back in Dayglow all they had were lights and candy-canes.

“What’s this supposed to be?”

“Don’t know,” Boone shrugged. He stopped fiddling with the bulbs as soon as a securitron rolled over, likely about to mis-evaluate him as a vandal.

 

* * *

 

Lucky 38

 

Boone sullenly searched through the kitchen cupboards in the suite for anything resembling lunch. The courier was in his room, being in a mood and trying to calm down to stop himself from bringing the quarrel they’d just had into a full-blown shouting match.

 

So much for ‘I’ll stick around’. Fate had the foulest sense of humor because after they’d gotten back from dam, Mr. House directed that guy towards the El Dorado substation to ultimately highjack the system.

Boone knew the area, NCR had claimed the substation after that hell of a fight with the damn Brotherhood at HELIOS One. And Mr. House would snatch it away again? No chance in hell.

He said something about needing to give the Lucky 38 reactor a boost and another thing about falling back to a secondary source. Either way, he wasn’t convinced the moment he heard “we gotta find a way to get past the NCR personnel”.

 

“Sure there’s no other way around this?” he asked, suddenly feeling very skeptical about everything pouring out of the other man’s mouth.

“Don’t seem like it.”

“That what you think? Or just what _he_ said?”

 

Ash paused, glared at him in a few seconds of growing fury. “I can’t believe this,” he mumbled.

And with that, he’d stormed out of the guest room and slammed his bedroom door shut for the rest of the morning. Boone merely rolled his eyes, went back to collecting dirty laundry around the room.

 

He then went out for the day, got food outside and mechanically played a few rounds of blackjacks, trying not to imagine how he’d be spending his Christmas this year.

Carla had been brought up with a solid celebration every year, and when they married she brought that tradition over. Neither of them knew exactly what the real point of the event should’ve been but she’d still been adamant about cooking a lavish dinner and exchanging small gifts.

This year he’d planned to get her a fine bottle of red, or something else that she could enjoy after the pregnancy. As for the kid, he’d wanted to make some whittled wood figurines. He’d actually been looking forward to it all.

 

After hours of gambling and walking round town he made his way back.

He cracked his neck, leaning tiredly against the mirrored walls of the elevator on the way up the Lucky 38. Didn’t want to look at his reflection, didn’t want to even think about what he was going to do about his situation with the courier.

The worn steel doors opened up into the suite, he stepped out and, speak of the devil, came across the other who was on his way out of the rec room.

Boone wanted to ask if he’d had dinner yet but he just walked past, didn’t even look at him, and went into his room with the door shut once more. At least he didn’t slam it this time.

 

He sighed. When Asher was mad he played a game where he pretended the other man was a ghost. Ignored him completely, like he didn’t exist. With Carla she used to just say snarky things at him. He wasn’t sure which was better.

He blinked. Walked off to the bathroom as he mildly wondered why thoughts about the both of them were still tied together in his head.

 

After that he went to the games room and got himself a soda. ED-E was with the Followers for some work done on it, and he was all alone.

Too quiet for him, so he went over to the radio. Was about to turn it on when he noticed a peculiar book sitting on the table. Leather-bound, worn at the edges, with a brass decorative buckle wrapped round the front. It looked pretty good, never seen a book like that before.

 

He vaguely flipped through the pages, bored out of his brain. He'd expected to find the usual walls of texts but found instead some odd doodles of trees, crags of rocks, windows, doors, and a few clouds of words here and there.

Oh. Must be the courier’s sketchbook, never seen its inside before. The drawings weren’t actually very good, but seemed to have filled almost a whole book.

And then he came across a scribbled page that made his heart leap to his throat.

 

_‘Smile. I’ll always protect your smile. That’s what he used to always say to me. I tried to protect his too. But I couldn’t._

_I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t - ‘_

It went on and on, covering the entire page with letters squished together, like some crazy person had written it. His brows knitted tightly. This was getting a little creepy, why would he write something like this?

He glanced at a section continued on the next page. Scrawls of someone wanting to ‘try again’. Making apologies but also reassurances to their ‘number one’. Wanting to try again.

He slammed the book shut, face full of surprise. Finally recognized that what he’d been reading was probably also a part of that guy’s journal - his weird muddled up thoughts.

He immediately put it back to where he remembered he’d found it, even angled in the same way. Felt a bit of shame, going through someone else’s private things that way, even if it had been an accident.

 

He dropped onto the couch and finished the final drip of his soda, stared into the air before him. Couldn’t get those disturbing words out of his mind. Felt like the sheer drive behind each scratching of letters on the paper had jumped out and clawed at his entire being.

He pressed his fingers together, held them against his chin, while on the radio Mr. New Vegas was now announcing a portion on the dropping number of Fiends.

 

Such a difference, the two of them. God knows the moment he’d pulled the trigger on his wife that night it was Bitter Springs all over again. Been convinced he was rendered beyond second chances.

But that guy had been the opposite. He’d tried as hard as he could through his last spot of will to find something new even though he’d been trashed to his teeth by that thing called destiny. Wonder if it was worse when you couldn’t have anything to blame for your losses.

 

He took a deep breath. Got tired of thinking and speculating if that guy was right in the head, just wanted to forget what he’d read.

 

He got off the couch and set up the billiards table for a game for one. After racking the balls he walked over to the cue sticks. Got one from the stand hung against the ornate bronze wallpaper. 

Carla would’ve loved a house like this. Big place, good plumbing, nice lights, nice walls, nice carpets. Not that they’d ever be able to afford even half of this kind of luxury.

Drifted back to the courier again. Asher been settling in quite nicely considering he didn’t own the apartment. He wondered what exactly House had said that changed his mind about the man, because he’d been very reluctant to make his acquaintance at the beginning. Called him a tyrant, didn’t even want to stay at the Lucky 38 even though it’d been offered to him for free. And now he was a servant waiting at his beck and call.

 

He potted all the balls within six minutes. His dexterity had already made it easy, so it turned into an absolute humdrum when he wasn’t playing with anyone.

Played another game as he sipped sarsaparilla and idly remembered what the courier had once told him - about how these sweet drinks originally had some sort of gas in them that made them taste kind of spicy.

That was near the start of their journey together and he’d merely grunted, didn’t care about the useless trivia he had sometimes popped up with. But now he looked at the glass bottle in his hand, trying to imagine how it had been manufactured to have been like.

 

He licked residue sweetness off his lips and sighed. Slammed the empty drink down onto the polished wooden edge of the billiards table.

What a dull, dull night.

Whole town of fun and games, and he found himself bored. Wished the other man would come out and talk to him.

                                                                                                                

A month ago his head would’ve wandered back to its dismal state during any windows of apathy. But now he would willingly and actively find something to do, and he somehow managed to fill up an hour just drifting over old magazines he’d found on the bookshelf after the boring billiards.

 

The radio was playing Double Crossing Blues by now. Just as he was about to walk over to turn it off and retire for the night he heard the door to the master bedroom suddenly opening with a loud crack.

Ash strode into the room, looking a little rattled. Saw the leather book on the table and quickly snatched it up. Still making a point not to look at his direction, he turned on his heels and made to walk out the door again.

 

“Hey,” Boone finally called out. First thing he’d said to him since their tiff that morning.

He slowed down on his step, feigning inattention as he flicked the pages of his book. “What?” he said in a deadpan tone.

“Play a round?”

He looked over, Boone cocked his head towards the billiards table.

Ash took a moment to consider, before he nodded, “Sure.”

 

 

They ended up playing a few games, Boone winning each one by a landslide while the courier acted like he didn’t care.

But they started quarreling again halfway through their later rounds. One was still very much committed to his dogma, while the other was equally stubborn about not coming in the republic's way. By the end of it Asher had started shouting. 

“Maybe you should get out then, leave me alone. Not going to be any good to me if you’re not gonna help.”

“Fat dream. No way am I leaving you to do whatever the hell that guy wants with the NCR. Gonna kill the rest of us if you don’t get out that cloud some time.”

 

The courier looked ready to punch him. But he didn’t. Just stood there, hands slightly shaking at his sides and burning him with his eyes. 

Boone walked off, ignoring the profanities that landed on his back. And this time he was the one slamming his door to world.

 

* * *

 

He’d spent the next morning thinking hard. Couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, because the loud puking noises the courier made from the bathroom had woken him up at dawn. Guessed the idiot drank his head out last night, and broke his streak of days without unhappy binging.

Each time the guy retched he heard a small voice in him bleating about how this was all due to him. Wasn’t he the one who’d said he didn’t want to make things worse?

 

When he couldn’t fall unconscious again, he ended up getting out of bed. Walked over to the bathroom to make sure he wouldn’t pass out emptying his stomach.

In the bathroom he placed a hand over his trembling back without thinking. Heard some whispers of apologies for waking him up and some others about telling him to go back to sleep, but he told him to shut up.

A month ago he would’ve crawled back into the warmth of his blankets without a care in the world. But now he found himself staying with him, getting a mug of hot water for him when he was done, making sure he got back to his own bed alright.

 

“Sorry,” he heard him stammer from under the covers as he was about to leave the room.

“Stop that. Getting annoying.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Boone grunted in aggravation and shut the door behind him. 

Might as well stayed up since he was already awake, and he took another long walk around town, a small part of him actually trying to entertain the idea of helping the courier in this whole affair.

 

When he came back in the afternoon he found him in the dining room, bizarrely reading a survival guide while the steaming bowl of instant noodles cooked itself on the counter. He glanced up from the table and back to the book when he walked in.

“I talked to Mr. House.”

Boone raised his brows in genuine surprise, frozen midway through his un-bagging of food and supplies on the table as he looked down at him. Where was he going with this? He’d been prepared to sit down to talk about what they were going to do, but if he didn’t have to anyway, all the better. All the simpler.

 

“I cooked up a reason, told him I couldn’t do it. He flipped out,” he laughed and got off the table to check on the noodles.

“But now I just have to see someone at the Followers outpost nearby, sometime soon.”

“So it’s not a problem anymore. You can relax,” he poked his fork at the bowl to separate the noodle cake and brought the bowl over to the table, never meeting his eyes.

 

A month ago Boone would’ve seen through it all, told him he was feeding him pure brahmin-shit. There signs were blaring.

But that man had his trust now, something he'd never given to just anyone. Because to him it sat above everything else, even love. Didn’t think he could ever have it in him to lie about something like that. How could he?

So he just said, “Alright.” Let the whirring weight slide off his mind with a welcome relief.

 

He went over to the sink and filled up a glass of water. “You let me know if there’s anything else,” he said as he drank it whole.

“Well, I also told him it might be a good idea to get into the toilet business since there aren’t any out there. But he just kind of felt sorry for me, told me to ‘aim higher’,” he said with a sheepish look.

“Hah. Right.”

 

They didn’t say another word for a few minutes. The only sounds in the room were the quiet droning of the air vents and the slurping coming from the table.

He eyed the courier from where he leaned against the sink. Ash was acting normal enough, just blowing on his forkful, reading the book on the side, occasionally drinking the soup of from the packet flavoring.

 

He walked over and pulled out a chair that was a seat away from him, “Christmas Eve tomorrow. Want to do something?”

Ash stopped reading and looked sideways to him with a vague look of perplexity, “Uh, sure, if you want. Got anything in mind?”

“Don’t know. Already been everywhere this morning.”

“Oh,” Ash’s eyes suddenly brightened, “let's go to Tommy Torini’s place, the theatre? I’ve always wanted to catch a show.”

Boone shrugged, “Sure.”

 

He kept a small smile on his face as he went back to his bowl. “Do you always do something for Christmas?”

“Yeah, she always did.”

“Like, presents and all?”

“Yeah.”

He made a small sound of amusement and nodded several times, as if he was finding the whole idea very interesting.

 

Boone got curious, asked if he’d celebrated too.

“Oh hell yeah, he loved it. Always gave me a whole bag of stuff every year.”

“Don’t do it anymore?” he asked, and Asher shook his head.

“Huh,” he leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs out under the table. Even back in the army they always had a party on Christmas night. Higher-ups said it was to keep morale up, but everyone just wanted an excuse to drink themselves dry.

“Well, guess you didn’t have anyone to spend it with.”

 

“Man, don’t give me that look,” he said while he scooped soup with his fork, “I don’t need your pity. I just really don’t see the point. It’s just another day for me.”

Boone smirked and got up from his seat to leave, but not before leaning down and mumbling to him, “Don’t believe you.”

Everyone got lonely some times, he was sure about that.

 

He went out the door, leaving the courier who merely rolled his eyes at the ceiling before going back to his half-soggy noodles.

 


	21. Chapter 21

The Strip

 

“Okay, okay. I’ve got Angela, Hsu, Sarah, that guard at Silver Rush, Rotface.”

Boone almost spat his rum and cola on the carpet of the casino bar when he said ‘Rotface’. Never had been one good with names, only faces, but that one was self-explanatory.

The courier just grinned, “You’re the one who asked. Who else…”

 

“Oh. Red Lucy,” he added. Boone grunted, and they both mumbled a chorus of ‘oh yeahs’ while they nodded slowly in unison.

“She had, like – I don’t know man, this charisma. Or something. The way she spoke. She could put a spell on you and you’d let her.”

“I like her hair,” Boone stated plainly. The other just gave him a sigh, and then got up to the bar to get another drink.

 

He came back bearing two rocks glasses of chipotle margaritas, Boone made a small protest when one was shoved his way – wasn’t even done with his own drink yet.

“Hey, you ever want to be a dad again?” Ash asked after he drank a large sip. The alcohol must have been starting to get to his head, he seemed to be chattier.

“Don’t know. Maybe someday.” If he could just stop seeing Carla everywhere he went. Hope he could name his kid after her too, if he could ever get a new wife who'd let him.

“What about you? The whole family thing?”

Asher stared at him, sniggering continuously, like he’d just spouted the joke of the year. “Nope.”

 

They’d ended up catching Mr. Isaac’s show at the Ace Theater before deciding to spend their last few hours to Christmas on snacking and drinking at various bars along the Strip.

The show had been enjoyable, Boone had been especially attentive since Bruce had come stumbling into Novac a few months ago, looking particularly skittish. That guy had acted pretty suspicious, but guess he really had been a performer. Wonder if he’d known Carla well. 

Isaac sung a jazz song, a slow, expressive one about lovers under the glistening lights of New Vegas. And as he listened his mind went on an involuntary voyage through fragments of the past - pictures in his head reminding him of his wife, of better times, of the shoes she’d worn the first time they had a meal together, her sharp and witty tongue - memories that he’d kill to never ever forget. 

 

It’d been he who’d suggested they go for more drinks because when they left he was feeling worse than he came. The courier was keen, always was whenever booze was involved.

So they splurged tonight. Went from place to place, sometimes getting a single drink at each one, sometimes looking at the packed rooms and then immediately leaving because neither of them wanted to get into a smelly room of sweaty strangers.

 

Seemed everyone was out too, more so than usual. At the Dice bar a pretty brunette had, apparently in accident, brushed his arm. She chatted him up after and said something about his muscles but he just clammed up, went back to waiting attentively for the busy bartender.

Didn’t feel right getting with a girl that way only a few months after Carla. He ignored the little voice in him dryly stating that apparently another man was all okay. No, that was different.

He awkwardly excused himself, mumbling that he needed to see someone. She smiled sweetly and said goodbye, and he wove through the thin crowd to their table in the corner of the large room. Asher looked a little disappointed that he was empty-handed, but decided to call it a night because neither of them wanted to drink anymore. 

 

It was pouring with rain when they got outside. The sidewalks were swarming with people trying to avoid getting wet, so the both of them ended up walking through the deluge to get to the Lucky 38 a few minutes' walk down the street. Wished they had snow fluffing down their heads for Christmas instead of this.

Would’ve been all fine if the courier didn’t suddenly decide to take a small detour to a supplies store because he supposedly needed shaving cream. When he came out he hadn’t bought anything anyway, said they ran out.

Boone grumble as he stepped out from shade. He’d put his hood up but the cotton hadn’t done much good, he was getting soaked by the minute.

 

When they reached the ramp to the skyscraper his teeth were chattering. He squeezed his beret dry while the entrance door slid open.

Ash, however, was still springy in his step, didn’t get too bothered by the cold, and joked about his adding thirty years to his age whenever he took the hat off. Boone retorted by saying he was the opposite, he kept a beard just so he wouldn’t look like a twenty-six-year-old baby.

They stumbled into the door, chuckling in small bursts like two fools.

 

“So did you have fun?” Ash asked cheerfully as he pressed the call button on the elevator repeatedly.

“Not very fun freezing to death.”

“Oh, here. Here, man,” he slurred, walked over as he peeled off his drenched coat and slapped it around his shivering frame.

“ _Not_ going to work,” Boone spat out in between his bouts of laughter. Must’ve drunk a little more than he thought.

 

He tried to stop the courier who started taking off his outer buttoned shirt to add to the clothes stand that he was. But that shirt ended up around him too, though nothing did any good because it was all dripping. When the elevator arrived they wandered in together, wobbling with each step.  

Come here, Ash said with dazed grin but took a step towards him anyway.

Boone felt the collar of the shirt around him tauten as he was pulled closer to him, shoes to shoes and chest to chest, and the other man tried to warm him by breathing hot air all over his cheek, neck, both of them sniggering as he went.

 

“Might actually work,” he smiled, “if you keep it up for six hours straight.”   

Ash gave a sound of mock disappointment, laid his lips on the tip of his cold nose for a second. 

“That a ‘lil warmer?” he droned, but didn’t seem to expect an answer as he gave him a peck on his icy lips.

 

Boone laughed, didn’t move away so they continued, kissed again and again - and all of a sudden he felt himself shoved against the wall of the lift with a loud clunk, lips pressing deep into his, neither of them giving a shit about surveillance.

Definitely felt warmer now. Felt the hot tongue flitting in an out and twisting around his own, with warm breaths and cold noses caressing their cheeks. Ash was acting pretty odd too, unexpectedly desperate, determined.

Boone couldn’t stop the small moan that escaped his lips when the other man abruptly broke the kiss and stepped back as soon as the doors opened once more. The courier gave a low giggle as they both slunk out into the apartment.

 

He straightaway went to take a quick, hot shower – Ash messed around, teasingly asked if he could watch but got a pair of wet jeans flung at his face – and they both hung the wet clothes on the chairs of the dining room since they lacked a drying rack.

Didn’t matter that their lusty stupor from before had been broken. Still somehow managed to pick up where they’d left off - on the edge of the huge dining table with him half sitting and half leaned back on the surface and making loud groans into his damp hair as they ground into each other. The courier would’ve been wholly happy to do it right there on the cold wood if he hadn’t stopped him.

 

Had dry clothes on, but they were all off by the time they’d ended up in the master bedroom. When Boone shut the door behind him he was pushed back against it with another violent kiss.

Seemed he was just getting forced around by him tonight, but he in fact didn’t mind at all. Background flickered in and out of vision as his lips were licked, nipped at, and abandoned gasps filled his ears. He took a deep breath against his face, couldn't smell the usual metallic smell, just the cigarettes and liquor and the rain from tonight. 

 

“Hey,” Ash panted when he pulled away. He pressed their foreheads together as his smile dimmed faintly, looking like he was contemplating something.

“What?” he asked huskily.

The courier stayed quiet for a while, just thumbing the back of his neck and his cheek bone, staring straight into his eyes.

Boone managed to catch the way his face fell for a split second before the man gave a light chuckle and out-of-the-blue said, “You’re like - the sun, man, you know?”

 “What?” he repeated, this time with a ridiculous chortle. Somehow didn't feel like that was what he'd actually meant to say.

 

“Not like, a bright shiny one. More like a sun set. But you don’t ever go down, you stay half-dipped into the horizon.”

“Cool orange. Quietly blazing,” he whispered with a wide grin as he touched his lips.

  
“You’re a real weird one, know that?”

“Yeah, I know. Whatever, man.”

That guy turned on and off like a light switch. After that odd exchange he suddenly leaned in and continued his rough, bruising kisses, ramming him into the door.

Boone felt warm fingers tracing his hips and his waist, leading him to wherever, he didn’t care. Merely followed with a drunken smile.

Didn’t even notice the books and other junk strewn across the carpet in the room as he stumbled backwards over the weapons trunk at the foot of the bed, landing on the cool blanket as the courier bent over him and, in between breaks of laughter, asked him if he was alright.

 

He didn’t reply, just dragged him down to the bed with him and drove their smiling lips together.

All the while his blissfully foggy head abstractedly wishing his wife and the baby, and the man sprawled above him.

Didn’t ever want to lose this feeling again - he repeated in his head, countless times, throughout the night.

 

* * *

 

He woke up to the ceiling of the courier’s bedroom, in the buff. 

His eyes drooped as the night before slowly came back to him. Hadn’t laughed like that in a while. Surprisingly didn’t regret one second of it, and that said a lot for someone like him.

Maybe he was turning queer, in more ways than one. Almost became the catcher last night. But when he’d spluttered at him to stop, he did. And they’d settled for a simpler finish at the end. Simple. Simple was good.

 

Had a weird dream too. Couldn’t remember much about it, just that the other man had been calling him Craig, instead of his surname. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

 

He groggily turned to look to his side and found himself feeling a little relieved that the bed was empty. Didn’t even need to look at the mirror to know that he had red marks all over his chest, neck, inner thighs.

He sighed, rolled off and sat at the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the pile of clothes on the carpet, the ones he’d worn last night before they were all taken off. Asher must’ve collected them from the trail they’d left and chucked them there.

Got up from the bed, put a pair of briefs and sweats on. Body ached all over, but his head was fresher than ever. From the clock on the desk he saw it was a little bit past eight. Odd, to be the one waking up later.

 

Just when he was out of the door he stepped on something hard on the ground. He looked down – it was something small, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine and with a small note on top. Hah, already knew what that was supposed to be. Surprised he actually did it.

Boone picked the thing up and gave the note a quick skim. It was from Ash, said something about suddenly getting an urgent message from the guy he was supposed to meet early in the morning and he had to go.

 

‘Will be back tomorrow, so gamble your day away! Followers safehouse just west if you really need me. Have fun!’ The guy was all over the place. The message ended with fully capitalized Happy Christmas wish, and had lots of exclamation marks, like it was over-the-top enthusiastic.

He opened the packet, methodically removing the tapes on the back, unfolded the paper and slid out the item onto his palm.

Turned out to be a small folding knife, with a dark hardwood hilt that had a belt cutter and a glass breaker at the end. Must’ve been something he got last minute at the supply store they’d stopped by last night. No wonder he'd come out empty-handed.

 

He pursed his lips, couldn’t fight the small smile as he pocketed the knife.

As he made his way to the room next door he rubbed his face, yawning and thinking of where he should go today. Seemed like he’d already explored every nook and cranny on the Strip.

 

He ended up at one of the casinos behind the Tops for most of the day. Played roulettes and poker against many others who were either too poor to go home to their families, had no one to return to, or just plain didn’t give a shit about anything other than gambling.

He didn’t care, just had his head full of wondering what he could get for the courier in return. Definitely had to give something now, wasn’t that how it always worked?

 

Still didn’t know what to get him by the end of the day, so he simply bought a whole bunch of sugary stuff with the caps he’d won from blackjack, and left them all on the guy’s bed for when he returned.

 


	22. Chapter 22

 

They’d slept with each other from time to time. But Lord knows, they weren’t lovers, both had been clear about that despite not saying a word.

Weren’t just friends either. Friends didn’t whisper words of affection as they kissed like lovers.

So he’d stopped trying to put a label to it a long time ago. Always took things in a stride, never was the kind who made a fuss when something was thrust to him. It was what made him a good soldier.

 

He’d changed a lot in the last two months, thanks to the courier. Lot of things happened, never realized how different everything could become in just ten weeks.

Still missed Carla with all his soul, but instead of seeing the nest of Legionaries whenever she took over his thoughts he saw her smile - her beautiful smile that he’d forever keep even when his body turned to dust years from now.

Still thought about Bitter Springs once in a while. Couldn’t squeeze every drop of guilt from his being, but he learned how to live around it and that worked wonders. Finally started to grasp the trace of a new direction. There was a bigger picture. And now he’d see justice, instead of vengeance, from behind the scope.

It felt good. Like something had rekindled in him – a flame. Small, but after how long the embers had fought to stay alive, it would never go out again. He was sure of it.

 

Might’ve taken him years to have gotten to where he was now, that is if he’d even been capable of doing it by himself. Which was why he’d started to see that guy in a different light.

Carla would have been furious, would’ve said he moved on too fast. But the reality was that he hadn’t moved on. To him they were both on two separate planes of existence, simple as that. Couldn't replace the other even he wanted to.

On rare days, with a clear head, he considered himself a lucky enough bastard to have it in him to be able to harbor sentiments like that for two whole persons. While sometimes, god forbid, he’d in fact decadently craved to deliberately take him for granted.

 

 

For better or worse, he trusted him with his life. More than he ever did Manny.

Even as he stood at the tower on the edge of the Legion legate’s camp, looking down at the courier and the General of the NCR army from behind his rifle.

 

Dozens of yards away they stood, with the army of steel fronting the small collection of black-armored rangers at the gate.

Too far, couldn’t hear what was going on, but could hear fragments of Oliver’s raised voice as he held the two-foot long spool of paper the courier had handed to him.

After dealing with Lanius and his damn lackeys Asher had directed him to the watchtower while he ‘had a chat’ with the NCR. He’d trusted that he might need some form of discretion, so he didn’t move from his spot and just watched it all from his vantage point. But something was odd, he could tell.

 

The faltering of his faith came as gradual as the quickening pace of his heart beat, when General Oliver pulled the revolver out of his holster and aimed it at the courier, who backed away readying his carbine, slowly.

He went cold, fingers tightened around his hunting rifle – target darting between the general, the rangers, the courier, for what seemed like minutes – when Ash said something but the general merely shook his head at him.

 

Didn’t think Oliver would actually fire, but he did. The first shot that tipped the avalanche was from his revolver, looked almost like a warning shot because it missed the target who’d suddenly ducked out of the way.

 

First thought he had was that the general had set them up. Didn’t even consider drawing suspicion to the courier. His scope – almost automatically – flitted to the general’s chest, but he didn’t pull the trigger. Only because seeing the rangers alongside the man had somehow reminded him who he was about to shoot.

If the securitrons hadn’t started opening fire at the NCR members the courier would’ve been riddled with bullets. 

One of the veteran rangers had shot at him from within the bloodbath. Blew off a chunk off his upper arm and he doubled over, any cries from him shrouded by the other screams of pain and the constant, ear-splitting gunshots. 

And then it was Jeannie May all over again, he didn’t even remember lining up the crosshairs with the helmet of that ranger and taking the shot.

 

Didn’t even realize what he’d done until a few dragging moments later when the general and his rangers were all dead on the ground.

He only recognized then that the skirmish had merely lasted for four seconds.

Even though it felt like hours and hours as his ears pounded and cold sweat seeped into his skin while it all unfolded below him and he could do nothing at all to stop anything.

 

That was quick. Way too quick. Couldn't have been part of the plan, _w_ _hat the hell just happened?_

 

In the deafening silent aftermath he remembered to breathe. Eyes stung from being open too wide and too long, like he was in darkness. Would’ve crumpled into the floor if he hadn't been trained to have a level head.

The courier was bleeding down his arm, shaky and stumbling to get up from the ground while a single securitron rolled up to his side. He’d still been looking through the scope, as if pulling away from it and seeing with his own two eyes would make everything true.

He briskly straightened up, grabbed his hunting rifle along as he rushed off – wasn’t even sure why he was hurrying - and descended from the tower onto the rusty ramp, the ground, into the compound of the camp, towards the center where the carnage was. 

 

This was real. This was real. _Did they just --_  

Smelled blood and guts many times before but he really felt like puking the instant he came within several feet of ground zero.

The general’s mangled corpse laid just ahead, the dirty green uniform stood out among the others. Couldn’t go near it, he just flattened his palm against the cold corrugated steel walls and stared down at the tampered ground beneath his soles. 

The securitron with House’s face on-screen spoke to the distracted courier, who’d glanced at him intermittently.

 

And it suddenly clicked in his head while the sudden chill came upon him once more. Didn’t even need to hear what House was saying to the other man to know that he’d played right into his hands in all this.

Trust hung by a thin rope, now. In mere moments. Hell.

His empty eyes absently landed on the pile of ranger bodies. Men and women he’d fought with. Fought for. For years. They’d led him to where he was now. Christ, he’d be put to the firing squad right now if he was still serving. This couldn't have been deliberate. It was impossible.

 

Only when Asher came up to him later did he finally notice the securitrons evacuating the area impassively. 

He looked sideways to the courier, who looked like he was in shock as he clutched his arm in pain – with a closer look he also actually had a shallow wound to his torso on the leather armor – and that guy still had it in him to ask, “You okay?”

Boone went back to gazing at the bodies. Didn’t say a word for a few moments, feeling more ill by the second.

“You…killed the general. These soldiers,” he look at him again.

Saw the slight falter in his eyes before it hardened once more and he said in between pants, “He attacked us. I couldn’t – “

 

He got cut off when he got the rifle pulled on him.

Right at his face less than a feet away. Asher flinched slightly, they both took a step back.

 

“He attacked _you_ ,” Boone was stone cold. Point blank. All it took was one shot, and the republic would have their justice.

The courier looked right at him, equally frigid. Another long period of silence, just leering at each other, with the hunting rifle in between.

 

“Kill me,” he said. Almost missed the slight tremble in his voice. “Might help.” 

“ _You strung me along_.”

“You could’ve left anytime you wanted.”

Bile rose in his throat, Boone felt like he could really throw up now. “ _No_. You’ve been vague about your plans with him right from the start.”

 

Up till now he hadn’t considered the worst-case actually unfolding. He thought no one would have the nerve to fight a force like the NCR’s. But he’d been wrong, Oliver’s carcass lying ten feet away was proof enough. Shouldn't have trusted him, but trusting shouldn't even have been a mistake.

“Fine. I did. I fucking lied. Been lying so _fucking_ hard since - “ Ash spat, but got interrupted when he noticed the securitron linked to Mr. House, along with two others, were gliding over to the pair.

He glanced at their direction, and back to Boone, swore quietly.  _Wait_ , he said to him under his breath before the robot came within earshot.

 

“What is going on now?” House’s voice crackled through the securitron while the other two gathered around with their submachine guns readied at the man wearing the NCR beret.

The robot stopped right beside him, “Oh. Didn’t get enough of your fallen comrades? That you had to pull a gun on my lieutenant?”

Lieutenant. That what he called every pet he had?

 

“Sir, it’s not a problem. A personal matter. I’d really like to deal with this privately, please,” Asher said as evenly as he could.

But the clicks from the robots just made Boone all the more at the ready. He’d undoubtedly die the split second after he took the shot. So it’d be a double square deal. All he had to do now was to take the bargain.

 

“I’m sure you are well aware of your chances of survival once you pull that trigger, boy,” House enunciated every word. He ignored the damn machine, just kept his eyes locked with the courier’s. “But before you so much as twitch, your ashes will be the only thing flung into – “

“Sir,” Asher raised his voice now, “he won’t. I’m sure of it.”

Anyone who knew him could tell he didn’t sound so convinced himself. But then again, seemed like no such person existed in this world anymore. 

“So please, leave this to me.”

 

House was quiet for some time, before the sound of a sardonic sigh came through. “Very well, I trust you know what you’re doing with the ingrate,” he said in a kind of sing-song tone and the three robots steadily turned around on their wheels.

“Don’t be long, it wouldn’t be very practical for you to die _now_ just from missing prompt medical attention.”

The securitrons rolled away towards the dam. Soon enough, the two of them were once again alone in the middle of the field of bloodied Legion camp.

 

Ash looked down at the barrel, “Your arms not getting sore?”

“Sir, sir, sir, _sir_. All that ever fucking comes out of your mouth, when you talk to him,” Boone snarled through his killing glare. Never seen that guy act so revolting.

“…I respect him.”

“Years of fighting. All those soldiers, all for nothing. Even Bitter Springs.”

Asher’s eyes blazed at that, “It _wasn’t nothing_. All that would’ve gone on forever, with the NCR. You really wanted that?!”

 

“ _You’ve just declared war –_ “ Boone shouted, and was very ready to finally blow his brains out because he’d just been too damn stubborn. 

And the courier was sure he would have – his head bowed, eyes squeezed shut.

 

Bullet didn’t come. Of course.

They went motionless again, as if time had stood still for them both as he pointed the barrel between his brows. Boone swallowed hard. All the time they’d fought together, laughed together, talked about Carla together, lain together. This couldn't have been the same man.

 

Ash exhaled shakily, his eyes flickered open, and looked up from under knitted brows. 

“I just really think it’s time you knew something better,” the courier said almost in a whisper, but the weight behind every word painfully clear. “Just…please. Give yourself a chance to see it on your own.”

And they just stared, like it was all they knew how to do right now, piercing their eyes into each other once more as he struggled to find remnants of the man he once knew.

 

“Trust me on this. There’s something more out there.”

Trust, there was that damn word again.

 

Took a long time. But he finally saw something within him that made him dead sure, now.

The time they’d spent together, the things he’d done for him. All him. All real. Which made it all the hell worse because now he felt like he didn’t know jack shit about anything.

 

Didn’t know how he thought he was kidding. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t even muster up the will to smash his face into the ground till it broke, let alone blast it off. He hated that he couldn’t. Wasn’t sure if he wasn’t strong enough to do it, or if it was the opposite.

 

He was breathing harder, through his mouth as frustration took over, and he swore with a violent shout and threw the damn rifle to the ground. It landed with a pained crack, hard time patching it up later but that was the absolute last thing on his mind right now.

Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t everyone just get the fuck over their problems and hold their fucking hands or something?

 

He buried his face in his palms with a long, shaky sigh. “But how am I supposed to believe anything you say now?” he whispered.

“You don’t ever have to.”

 

“I…I thought you were – “

This wasn’t how he’d expected it to end. General Oliver, the rangers, he’d hardly pulled the trigger on all of them himself but he might as well have. 

“Fought with you. Across the dam. To this - " he breathed.

 

The courier called out his name quietly. He didn’t look at him – just placed his hands at the back of his neck and looked up at the orange sky, taking in a deep breath. Something like a hawk sounded in the distance. Felt like this had happened before.

Ash called him again, and this time staggered over in front of him. “Look at me. Hey.”

 

“Boone,” and he finally met his eyes again.

“It wasn't your fault,” he said excruciatingly slowly, “it wasn’t. I couldn’t get him to stand down. This here,” he cocked his head to his side a fraction. “This was all me. You understand?”

 

Couldn’t hold it, he looked away from him, but Asher took a small step forward – stood so close now that blood from his arm dripped on the other man’s boots - and bent to get a clearer look at his face, “ _Do_ you fucking understand?”

Boone stood still, consciously willing himself to truly listen to what he was saying.

 

He blinked a few times.

Bitter Springs came back to mind. But he resolutely pushed it out again. If he’d learned anything from the past few months, it was that sometimes the world didn’t actually revolve around him. As vile as that sounded.

He mentally took a step back and looked at it all as a whole, the problem. Broke it all down into the cause – and it wasn’t him this time.

 

It was the fraud standing right in front of him. The one he’d pointed his gun to moments ago, the one he couldn’t point a gun at again because he was slowly, irreversibly understanding a smidgen of the will behind his actions. 

But whether it was from the mere idea that had been planted in his head days ago or if it was just something more material, he still couldn’t tell. Summoned up the last of his faith and once he did, he gave a few small nods.

‘Okay’, they uttered several times.

 _Okay_.

 

They both stayed standing for what felt like an eternity of pure silence.

Didn’t want to move on. The next time they faced the world they might be alone.

 

But when Asher walked to the steel barrier and slumped against it, looking alarmingly pale, he knew they had to go.

As they walked alongside each other the courier muttered his disarrayed thoughts, kept reassuring him it wasn’t his fault. Gun wasn’t pointed to his head anymore, but he still sought the blame.

 

Hated that. Hated how that, when it mattered, he would without a thought put him above all else, even his own life. If he would lay down his life for him, why do all this shit?

Christ. Precisely due to that impulse, he’d wager. Wish he could stick something into his own head and swivel his brain around, just so he’d stop trying to understand that seriously fucked up logic that guy had. 

 

They reached the dam when the sky turned into a sea of indigo over the disintegrating golden clouds. Walked through the scattered bodies, browned concrete. He’d never been in a battle of this scale before, wasn’t part of the force at the dam in ’77.

It was surreal. All these wasted lives, he thought he’d put it all behind him.

The last of Vegas’ securitron army could still be seen as they routinely vacated the dam. Around a mere dozen stayed for whatever reasons, scattered around the inside and upside, and everyone stayed far away from each one.

 

They miraculously managed to get a medic downstairs who was willing to patch the courier up. Swarms of NCR soldiers gave him the evil eye, looking ready to start a fight with him. Some glared at Boone, yet uncertain about whether he was a pariah.

Probably would’ve all opened fire at Asher if he hadn’t been vouched for by Hsu and Moore. Didn’t even want to think about the look on the colonels’ faces once they’d heard the news. The courier might be public enemy number one come next week.

 

After a solemn debriefing the troops had set up a few tents at the bottom of the dam, near the river. Someone had started a huge bonfire and anyone in good enough condition to move about sat around the area.

Some looked doomed and heartbroken. A few looked relieved and were surprisingly cheery, but almost everyone was drinking. Beer, a shit ton of beer - because hard liquor was rationed for the medical stations - and something else passed around in a large, steel flask. The lot of them just drank and smoked and a small group of them sang for their final day of 2281.

It was the eve. Leave it to Caesar’s army to choose one of the crappiest days to attack. Now everyone would remember the second battle of Hoover Dam whenever they welcomed a new year, and back west they’d mourn the death of Lee Oliver and their retreat from the Mojave. 

 

They stayed at a quiet corner in the infirmary. Boone stayed with the courier, didn’t want to agitate things by parading around the site, but more than that he found himself not wanting to leave him all alone. Especially in the middle of the dam full of NCR troops.

The plan was for Asher to take a short nap to make up for the fatigue from the pints he’d lost, but three quarters of an hour later when they prepared to leave, it was obvious he hadn’t slept a wink.

Towards Boulder City, they made their way. Wanted to get to the city as soon as they could. The NCR soldiers thinned out as they moved further from the dam, and the abandoned train station at Boulder City fortunately provided a temporary haven from the rampant disillusionment that had surrounded them.

 

They reached the Strip the next afternoon. Nine-hour trip, under the overcast weather, without more than a few words exchanged between the two exhausted figures traversing the wasteland. The Strip looked dismal. NCR troops and administration walking around, discreet and sapped under the monitoring of hordes of securitrons. The only ones hanging around the casinos were resident gamblers.

When they got outside the skyscraper he didn’t enter when the steel plate doors slowly skimmed open. The courier stopped right before stepping through the door, asked him what was wrong.

                                                                                             

He told him he needed some time alone. Get some distance from it all, think things over. And, he didn’t say it, but there was a void in him now that he couldn’t see himself filling with the root of it nearby.

If the courier was taken aback he didn’t show it at all. Just nodded stoically, and asked him how long. Long enough, he replied.

‘Right now?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘What about your stuff upstairs?’ ‘Keep them.’

 

They both glanced down to the polished tiles and back up to each other again. Just couldn’t tear away now. Knew why the other man couldn’t, but what about himself?

 

“See you around,” he muttered as he watched the breeze whip around the locks in front of the other pair of eyes.

“...yeah. You too.”

  

He took a step backwards. Two more. And was the one who finally unlatched himself, turned his back to him.

Heard the courier firmly telling him to take care of himself. He didn’t turn around, just gave a small wave in affirmation with the back of his hand.

He went through the central gates, deeper into the city. Wasn’t sure if he’d ever see, ever want to see, the other man again.

 

Fortune helped him find the answer - one he'd yet to know what to make of even when it fell to him - months down the road, when their eyes locked once more, across the bustling street of New Vegas.

 


	23. Epilogue

 

“Good shot, big guy. Might actually be there on schedule with you around. Gun like you should be worth more than twice the caps we’re shelling out.”

Lot of people been saying that, that he was selling himself short. Maybe they were right. He didn’t even know what the standard rates were for a mercenary who was former First Recon.

 

He just gave a quiet grunt in reply. The caravans this time came in from California, headed towards the Crimson Caravan branch up north. Being point man in that little group, he kept eyes and ears open as they went up the Long 15 under the glaring sun right above.

Seven months on and the Mojave finally showed signs of thriving and declining at the same time under Mr. House’s jurisdiction. 

There were considerably less raiders and Legion stragglers along the highways thanks to the occasional securitrons scouting around. But trading in Vegas came alongside a mother lode of tax, while for places like Novac things weren’t actually that much different from before his takeover.

 

He’d visited Novac once in a while, whenever he was around the area and chance had given him the opportunity. 

He’d carried around with him a wine bottle cork that had a few sprays of her perfume, as well as the silver beaded necklace she wore during their austere wedding – but other than that most of their things were still there in their room.

When the caravan had stopped by this time the place had smelled sharply sour from lack of use.

If he was still chummy with anyone in Novac he’d have asked them to open the door once in a while, let in some fresh air. If he was ready to let go he’d have packed everything up, moved out of that town.

 

Fifteen hours of walking and it was some time after midnight when they arrived at the Crimson Caravan camp. He never beat round the bush, always went up to the chief merchant and asked for his payment straight after.

The boss this time was fortunately trouble-free, gave him the solid amount without a fuss. She offered him a permanent position in their group as a scout, but he refused.

Always did. He didn’t feel like wandering too far from New Vegas just yet.

 

After that contract he went off towards the Strip. It was habitual, he’d realized he very much preferred staying somewhere within the vicinity of the main street and the Tops casino.

On bad days he felt like a pathetic pup who couldn’t ever leave home. Other times he let himself embrace the small peace of mind he got from all the familiarity - hell, Carla had said before, you know you’re getting old once you start reminiscing about the past.

Every now and then he found himself thinking about hunting further, seeking out the one in town whom he’d considered friend – the only one even after all this time out there.

 

It must’ve been due to the courier influence again, how he’d become less social than ever since their uneventful parting at the beginning of the year. 

In this line of work everyone left as quickly as they'd entered his life. And with his disposition it was no wonder he'd forgotten how to speak about his past, the Mistake that made him who he was and the woman who'd changed his life. And the person who'd redeemed him.

He'd once thought about re-enlisting with NCR, and maybe he would in the distant future. Only when he’d stop seeing the dead general and the mayhem of the Second Battle of Hoover Dam in the face of every soldier he met.

 

Had it up to his head with war, he’d told himself before. And now was the real time to start over.

He still carried the loss, the despair, wasn’t going around without troubles of his own. But then again, who the hell in the world was?

He’d somehow found a way to make it easier to deal with all that when he started to find beauty in the little things – a child’s laughter, music, good foods, the color of the sky – things short-lived but made him feel alive.

If he was fated to live the rest of his life like this, it would be enough for him.

 

He entered the steel gates of the Strip. On the way to his usual room at the 070 he glanced at the Lucky 38 compound once, it was empty. Still wasn’t sure what he wanted or expected to find, but being a creature of habit he did it every time he passed by anyway.

 

Months ago news of the campaign at the dam had spread quickly. Everyone started to be more wary than ever of the security robots that milled around town, marking the eyes of the Strip overlord who now had more power than ever.

And they’d taken to calling that other man the hound of the House, saying that it was hardly ever seen outside the Lucky 38, as reclusive as its master. Boone remembered giving a scoff when he’d heard that. It was painfully accurate.

Time away from the mad man had done him good, and he’d always thought that despite his missing some parts of their dynamics, his animosity towards him would arise if he ever saw that face again.

But lately a part of him wished the hound would venture out once in a while. Maybe he just wanted someone who knew about his wife enough to be able to talk about her. He'd enjoyed that way of keeping her memory alive. Either way, he found himself wanting to talk to him. For old times’ sake.

He got his answer - a pretty unsurprising one now that he had the power of hindsight – when he saw him the next afternoon, leaning against the iron guardrails on the ramp up to the skyscraper.

 

Felt a little startled at how his heart missed a beat from the other side of the street, when he recognized the face that he hadn’t seen since the year had begun.

That guy looked too different, cleaner and neater. Had longer hair, tied up into a messy stub of a tail. Wasn’t at all like the dust-ridden wanderer he knew, he fitted the city well now.

 

Boone took one step off the sidewalk, eyes still glued to him.

Asher lit a cigar and took a drag. It was a small corona, and he was actually smoking it pretty well. No choking or coughing this time. It flowed out smooth as he watched the passers-by.

Seemed he hadn’t realized the other man had been there because he did a minor double-take when he looked to his direction.

Even at that distance he could tell he was narrowing his eyes at him, as if he wasn’t sure if it was the right person. When all expression drained on from his face, he knew he must have known.

 

They stood still as stone as they stared at each other, just like that time at the dam. Only this time with lines of sights briefly interrupted as dozens of people walked past between them. Seemed like they were the only two in the whole street who weren’t moving.

Ash slowly lifted the cigar away from his lips and held it at his side. Like he wasn’t sure if he should put it out and walk over, or just continued smoking as if he hadn’t seen anything.

But then it slipped off his fingers, dropped onto the ground and he got startled. He bent down and picked it up again, clumsily dusting the end.

 

Hadn’t changed, that guy. May have looked like a different person but he certainly acted the same.

He smiled, crossed the street, ended up standing right in front of him without even really thinking about what he’d say.

 

“Hey," it slipped out notably easily.

“Hello,” the courier said with a nervous grin. He looked down at the dirty cigar he fiddled with in his hands, looked away, at anywhere but the person facing him.

 

“You looking for something?”

Boone cocked his head. Some _one_. “How you been doing?”

“…alright,” he answered and cleared his throat, “you?”

 

“Good,” he put a hand in his pocket. Readjusted his hat with the other, “yeah. Things are better now, actually.”

“Really?”

He nodded. Saw a flash of brilliant joy behind Asher's eyes before that guy tried to hide it with a purse of his lips.

“That’s good. That’s really good.”

 

They paused for a bit. But he could tell the courier was trying very hard not to voice questions he’d been meaning to ask. Probably his own weird way of respect, since right now it really did depend on how far he himself had wanted to go with all this talk.

He took a deep breath, “Yeah. Been picking up a bit of work. Here and there. Caravan groups.”

“I see. That’s cool,” Ash said, voice sounding empty. Empty because he’d already known.

 

Boone paused. He gave a huff, didn’t want to play this stupid game anymore, “Look, I know you’ve been keeping surveillance on me.”

Several times he’d spotted an odd machine or two shadowing his trail across the wasteland. Didn’t even want to get started on the stifling feeling he’d gotten whenever he was in the city.

“Huh?” he stammered with an air of cluelessness.

“Don’t have dull eyes. And you’re a crap liar.”

 

Ash pondered for a moment on whether or not to keep up the lame act. He gave up, let out a long sigh and looked to the lobby doors. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t like getting spied on.”

Another apology.

 

Boone trod to his side and leaned against the balustrade, warm even under the clouded sun. 

He looked up at it through his sunglasses, felt the other man’s shirt sleeve in a light touch against his arm. Would’ve been able to feel the heat of his skin if he’d moved an inch closer.

 

“He told you to keep tabs on me?”

“No,” the answer came immediately, “no, he didn’t.”

“So what’re you up to?”

“Nothing,” he sounded tetchy now.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m not – "

Boone uttered his name gravely. Gave him an icy glare, but he looked right back. Thought the rift between them couldn't ever be traversed, but from the way this was going guess it hadn't even taken very long to do so.

 

“I don’t want shit all from you. Just wanted to make sure you got on alright,” he said precariously.

“Well, told you before. Don’t need you looking out for me. I can take care of myself.”

Ash’s expression faltered faintly. He didn’t say anymore, just looked down at the cigar, staring at the way it burned bit by bit.

The conversation took a break for a few long moments. But neither of them moved from their spot as he watched the courier fidgeting with the cigar, picking at the wrap. More and more roughly by the second.

 

“Seven fucking months on and I’m still in the same fucking place, right?” Asher spat and brusquely threw the cigar to the ground. The embers sputtered off the lit end while it rolled down the ramp drearily, out onto the concrete pavement as their hearts sank.

He folded his arms, looked out at the street, wishing he could mechanically control every feeling he'd had.

 

“Not a bad thing, in a world changing by the second,” Boone said quietly. 

 

The courier got off the railings, folded his arms behind his head and feigned indifference with a nonchalant stretch.

“You’ve changed though. And that’s good, man,” he suddenly chuckled. Volatile as ever.

Boone gave a weak smile, “Yeah.”

Change. Simple word thrown around but heavy-laden with meaning, possibility. Glad he’d gotten off his ass to concern himself with it. Lucky enough to have someone who’d helped him seen it in the first place. 

Someone he'd now found he might actually have the capacity to care for. Only came to that realization moments ago when he himself heard the words that had poured out of his own mouth.

 

The courier faced him, hands in pockets, “I…gotta go now. I’m sure you’ve got your stuff to do too.”

Ash dragged his eyes up from the ground to meet his. He gazed back, shuffled through his thoughts for a reason he should leave for.

 

Couldn’t find one. Especially when the other man took a small step towards him and held his wrist lightly. Looked at him and told him he was glad he could see him again.

Come back anytime. Anytime. He’d always be here, he said with eyes that looked somewhat pained.

 

God, this guy. Idiot. Goddamn idiot. All this time, and he was still doing this.

 

He felt a lump in his throat and he swallowed hard. 

Less than a mere foot between them now. The instant the courier made to pull away he swiftly caught his cold fingers and clenched them in his own. Didn’t meet his eyes because the burning in his chest felt alarming.

Though, he let them go right after he remembered where they were. What he really wanted to say, to do at that moment, shouldn’t - couldn't - be done there. 

Don't leave, he found himself whispering as he raised his head. Not yet. 

 

Asher froze, looking hesitant. He gave a furtive glance towards the crowded street, where several of them were looking at the two peculiar men standing so close together in front of the Lucky 38.

He backed away like he'd touched fire when he noticed the prying eyes, but Boone placed a hand onto his shoulder and held him in place, still looking like he couldn't believe or even cease what he was doing. 

He went with his guts. Told himself some time ago that he’d throw caution to the wind, to go along with his emotions if the right person came along, now that he could keep more than his late wife in his heart. 

Whether they'd last or not didn't matter anymore. Important thing was that he'd try, and smile along the way. A valuable lesson he'd learned in the last year.

 

The courier exhaled harshly. "It's alright, I'm always going to be here," he repeated. "We can talk anytime."

"I know that. But -  "  _I want to start again._ _Let me._

 

"Can we get inside? Please."

 

“…yeah. Of course. If you want to." 

 

"I do."

 


End file.
